


Sea, Sex and Fun

by mellyb6



Series: And Then There Were Four [14]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deep Pillow Talks, Family time, Make up sex, Mati, Multi, Oral Sex, Spain, beach and ice cream, being poly is not easy but they're idiots in love, cute first date questions, embarrassing siblings, fun dates, how to deal with your boyfriend when he is in another country and you're missing him, how to have sex when your boyfriend is in another country, speaking spanish, summer vacations, they'll be fine, useful technology, when you make better porn than porn movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyb6/pseuds/mellyb6
Summary: Summer vacations for everyone. No drama. (A little bit of drama) Lots of cuddling, kisses, smooches, laughter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time so just in case: if something is written in "italics" it means the characters are speaking Spanish.

Something – or someone rather- shields Aramis from the bright sun on the beach and he looks away from Mati debating whether he should follow his mother in the sea or watch from the shore, simply dipping his toes in the water. Aramis finds his sister looming over him, back from the ice cream truck already. Relieved of the treats bought for the children who have scampered off to their father. She sits down by Aramis' side, squints and keeps on staring at him.

 

“ _Can I ask you a blunt question?”_ she eventually speaks out.

 

Aramis narrows his eyes, studies her as intently as she's doing. He leans back on his elbows.

 

“ _You never bothered asking before.”_

 

“ _Good. Here goes. Did you break up with Porthos?”_

 

“ _What? Ow.”_ Aramis can actually hear the snap in his neck when he does a double-take, taken aback by the indeed blunt and surprising question. Pain shoots in his skull and he rubs the nape of his neck. _“Of course no, I didn't. Why would you think so? He's working. That's why he isn't here.”_

 

Two days since they left Paris and France for their vacation in Spain. Incidentally the second day they end up with his sister and her family at the beach as well because they also rented a house in the same town. Sofia screeched so hard in the phone earlier in the month when she realized their dates matched for once and Aramis couldn't believe his oldest sister would be so excited. It's nice for the children actually. Aramis and Anne don't have to entertain their son all day by themselves. He has his cousins and his uncle to play with.

 

And Anne splashing the boy right now. They settled on the beach far enough away from the shore to be out of the way of people running to the water yet close enough for Aramis to catch some faint echoes of giggles and squeals.

 

The seaside is fun. It'd be better with Porthos who so desperately wanted to swim and have some time off away from Paris yet Aramis finds his days filled with so much activity and excitement so far that his boyfriend's absence isn't as bitterly felt as he would have assumed. He misses kisses and cuddling but he'll get some later in the month for sure and it'll be worth the wait. Besides, it's not like they aren't texting any chance they have.

 

So Sofia's inquiry comes quite out ot the blue. Aramis is puzzled.

 

“ _Right, yes, you said so,”_ she goes on, obviously not convinced. Aramis doesn't seem quite devastated so his relationship clearly hasn't ended. Things don't quite add up, though. _“It's just that you're...rather close to Anne, at least more than...usual and....”_

 

“ _The fuck?”_ Aramis exclaims, hissing, scrambling away from his sister and the vigorous slaps she just subjected his arm to. And his naked chest. _“Are you insane?”_

 

“ _Are you_ cheating _on Porthos? With_ Anne _? I'm the one who should be saying what the fuck, Aramis! What is wrong with you?”_

 

“ _What? How....Nobody's...”_

 

“ _Please! I'm aware you have your 'special relationship',”_ she air quotes, _“but since when do you actually_ kiss? _I'm not blind. I thought you were better than this!”_

 

“ _I am! Jesus! Nobody's cheating, I swear!”_ Aramis holds up both hands, a little scared of his big sister, of her seething and fierceness. The apparent disgust as she spits the words. _“I meant to tell you this, but well....there was the waterpark and then the pizzas and the birds so...yeah. Don't hit me again. Anne and Porthos realized they kind of... liked each other,”_ he blurts out and heaves a sigh of relief as Sofia sits back down on her beach towel to process the news.

 

His arm still stings and it's red where her ring hit the skin. Not that she's going to apologize. Her hat flutters with the breeze whenever she moves her head to look from him to Anne and back at him again. She carefully sets her ice cream on a sandless spot to take off her sunglasses. Aramis fidgets under her scrutiny, vaguely aware that her reaction isn't as feared as Anne's parents' or even Tréville's. He's simply hoping she won't attack again.

 

“ _Like like?”_ she finally manages to ask. Aramis nods. _“As in....romantically and all?”_ Aramis nods again. _“But you didn't break up?”_ Aramis shakes his head. _“What about you?.... How....”_

 

“ _I was upset at first.”_ Which is sort of an understatement yet it's been a few months and he's gotten this emotion under control. He's trying very hard not to be jealous and learning and he firmly believes it's working. _“But then...when haven't I loved Anne anyway and....”_

 

“ _Wait,”_ Sofia holds up a finger, bewildered. _“You're...dating Anne, too?”_

 

“ _I need Porthos in my life because I can't imagine it any other way now and yes, Anne is part of it as well. And I just want people to be happy.”_

 

“ _That easy? To have your boyfriend....what? Also date Anne? Everybody's dating?”_

 

Aramis would laugh at her confusion and her agape mouth and surely in a few hours they will. Hopefully she won't decide this calls for more slapping. With his sisters, he never knows, regardless of how old they are.

 

“ _I never said easy. It's a work in progress. But we're getting there. So yes, she's_ our _girlfriend.”_

 

“ _Do you even_ like _Anne that way? When did_ that _happen?”_

 

There's no disgust in her voice anymore. Pure astonishment instead.

 

That's a pretty good question and even though Aramis wasn't expecting this conversation to take place at the beach, he's always confided in his sister. Besides, she's certainly not an idiot and neither Anne nor him were trying to be discreet.

 

“ _Work in progress,”_ he repeats. _“I told you. It's hard not to like her anyway and dating again without the stress of a baby is totally different. Add Porthos to that and it becomes pretty awesome.”_

 

Porthos makes everything more amazing. It relaxes Aramis' heart to think about him. About their dates and his boyfriend's laughter. It soothes the pain in his arm, too. A little.

 

“ _Are French people really that liberal?”_

 

This time Aramis does laugh out loud and Sofia's eyes throw daggers at him. She shoves his leg with her foot.

 

“ _Not really but who cares?”_

 

“ _So you're not wrecking your life? Or your son's?”_

 

Because she doesn't want to picture what would happen to her nephew if it all went crumbling down. Neither does Aramis.

 

“ _Hopefully not.”_

 

“ _Good,”_ she decides. _“Because I like Porthos and the children wouldn't shut up about their dancer uncle so he needs to come back and give them more lessons. It's a shame he isn't here.”_

 

Aramis can't help his grin.

 

“ _I'll tell him.”_

 

“ _You also could have told us earlier! Does Ali know?”_ she gasps, perhaps more outraged by this possibility than by Aramis not sharing his news before she confronted him.

 

“ _No. I'm not going to call everyone and make an announcement about it.”_

 

“ _You should. Mom's gonna freak out. In a good way, I mean. We're always talking about you and Anne and about how you should....”_

 

“ _What do you mean 'always'?”_

 

“ _Hush. You're the baby. Of course we talk about you.”_

 

“ _Gossip, more like,”_ Aramis mutters. Sofia waves him off.

 

“ _Shush. But now you're real! You and Anne! Finally! You actually did something about it. That's good! That's great!”_

 

“ _I thought you liked Porthos,”_ Aramis reminds her.

 

“ _We do! We love him but before you met him, we were so sure you and Anne would snap out of it and realize you were wasting your life being “just friends.” She was always by herself, single yet now she has you and Porthos and it's all perfect!”_

 

Not quite but Sofia is smiling brightly, forgetting her previous outburst. Glad things are somewhat settled with everyone.

 

“ _Please don't tell Mom,”_ Aramis almost begs. _“Or Dad. Or Ali.”_

 

Sofia makes a show of zipping her lips before she reaches out and Aramis surrenders to the hug after a second of concern.

 

Perhaps he really should have called his parents ahead even though such a conversation on the phone seemed not quite right. They won't be fazed either way. Sofia being a good preview of what their reaction might be. Seriously, though, he wasn't going to get a headache figuring out how to announce the recent changes in his life to his family. It's just as well his sister is intuitive, even if she gets aggressive and protective. Certain payback for all Aramis put her through when they were younger.

 

As long as he's happy, nothing else matters indeed. And he is.

 

It's hot even under the shade, his hair is still wet from swimming, his toes occasionally dip in the warm sand and if he concentrates, Aramis can block out human noises to focus on the water lapping at the beach. He's also extremely aware of his sister's gaze on him but she's shut up for the moment. From time to time, Anne will look up and her smile will stretch all the way up to her sunglasses if she notices he's looking at them, too.

 

A lazy late summer afternoon until Mati speeds to their spot and squids to a stop, sending sand on his father's bare legs to request further assistance in the water. Aramis has to relinquish his quiet time to more play time. Not that he would dare complain about that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mati sleeps on the couch.

 

Even if he could have his own bedroom in the appartment his parents rented. Because Porthos isn't with them and it wasn't the plan at first but now Aramis and Anne are sharing the same bedroom. It would be stupid not to and the boy deemed that even though his stepfather is unfortunately not there, that didn't mean the adults couldn't sleep in the same bed. Since that's what parents do. Not that Aramis or Anne were going to disagree.

 

But then Mati could have had his own bedroom, with a big bed, which is frankly better than the fold-out couch in the little living room. Less fun, though. The adults often get to sleep on the couch in Paris. His mom used to do it a lot although she does it less and less these days, hence the bunking with Aramis. Mati never gets to sleep on the couch. And they're on holidays. It's almost like camping, and as close to it as they will get as Anne will never, ever agree to sleep under a tent, thank you very much.

 

So Mati has decreed from the first night on that he was claiming the couch and that's where he's happily sleeping now. Among a sea of pillows and teddy bears and the huge blanket spread on the carpet by the piece of furniture in case he were to roll over and fall during the night.

 

It's so effective, this sleeping arrangment, that he could even watch TV as soon as he woke up. Not anymore though as Aramis confiscated the remote because they _are_ on vacation and they're not here to watch television. Besides, his son has no idea what volume is acceptable in the morning and he would very much appreciate not being awoken by silly cartoons at 7 every day.

 

Hopefully that doesn't mean Mati will change tactics and come barge in his parents' bedroom as soon as he isn't sleepy anymore tomorrow. Aramis can always dream.

 

So now, it's a little after 9pm and the living room is already off limits because of the boy passed out there. Aramis has taken advantage of the situation to go have a shower and truth be told, he wouldn't mind turning in early either. Too much sun and heat are taking their toll on him.

 

He's drying his hair with his towel, steam following him until he's at the foot of the bed where Anne is sitting cross-legged, going through some leaflets to try to decide what's the plan for the following day.

 

There are whiter lines running in her neck and her back from where her swimsuit used to rest earlier and Aramis likes how blonde her hair is turning. So much more from being out in the sun so often. It shines against her somewhat darker skin. Not as dark as his has become but a light caramel tone and her aftersun lotion smells wonderful.

 

The mattress shifts when he sinks on it, shuffling closer until his chin rests on her shoulder and his breath tickles her skin, awakening goosebumps.

 

This is nice. The two of them. Like it's always been but also knowing that Aramis could kiss her and Anne wouldn't mind. An improved relationship in which nothing feels forced. Nothing feels wrong. Perhaps everyone else is right -his sister, his mother apparently, and they were fooling themselves. Anyhow, Aramis is glad they've finally had their eyes open.

 

“ _How are you?”_ he asks after a while.

 

It's a whisper in her neck which stops Anne from mindlessly turning pages without reading anything. His damp beard rubs on her bare shoulder when she turns around to give him a quizzical look.

 

“ _You've been with me all day long.”_

 

“ _Sure, but it's not like Mati lets us have any meaningful conversations.”_

 

He couldn't be more correct. Anne is exhausted, regardless of how thrilled she is to have some time-off with her family.

 

“ _Your sister's offering to take him for a day at some point,”_ she says quietly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

 

Aramis' hand covers her own on the corner of the page she's currently torturing. It stills her and Anne lets it. It's relaxing and comforting and they could only touch and breathe in silence, she'd be content.

 

“ _What's the catch?”_ Aramis won't be fooled.

 

“ _We have to take the kids another day so they can go on a date of their own.”_

 

“ _Of course.”_

 

Aramis can't help but groan. Three children of roughly the same age for an entire day sound like the total opposite of a fantastic time. It's already hard when the four adults are together. Yet, a free day with Anne sounds perfect and exactly what they need. To be together as a couple and not simply as parents. It hardly ever happens.

 

“ _I'm sure we could work something out,”_ he decides yet he can't avoid the reluctance in his tone.

 

Anne draws away from him, shifting on the bed yet unwilling to leave the arm wrapped around her waist. She's smiling sweetly and if he didn't know better, Aramis would almost believe the sun is also turning her blue eyes a shade lighter. She's pretty even when tired and he gives her a kiss on the cheek, feeling the rumble of soft laughter under his lips. The sigh.

 

“ _We're lucky she didn't make a scene when you told her about us.”_

 

“ _She did hit me,”_ Aramis scowls.

 

“ _Because you're her baby brother and she thought you were having a horrendous behavior,”_ Anne reminds him, having heard the tale of their conversation on the beach the previous afternoon. _“Now she understands and it's no big deal.”_

 

Aramis can hear the amazement in her voice. The disbelief. He kisses her cheek once more, smiles back and runs his fingers through her wavy hair. Anne leans against the touch. She enjoys that. The tip of his fingers brushing her back, playing with her curls, gliding in her neck.

 

“ _You're family, Anne,”_ Aramis feels the need to point out again. _“You've been since the first Christmas you spent with us seven years ago.”_

 

His naked back is still wet from the hot shower so it's difficult for Anne to get a proper grip on him yet she holds on to his shoulder, to the familiarity of his scent and his voice. She's glad some things haven't changed. That they're always comforting each other.

 

“ _My brother sort of yelled at me so all siblings obviously don't have the same reaction to the news,”_ she mumbles.

 

“ _I know. Because he heard it from your parents first. But he'll come around. From him, I have no doubt. I'm aware I can count the times I've met him on a single hand but he seemed like an understanding guy.”_

 

Aramis knows very well that it's a shot in the dark to give such reassurance to Anne. Her family is forever making her life hell. It won't quench her fears yet Aramis is somewhat positive about his assumption.

 

“ _He needs to hear it from you and he'll calm down,”_ he goes on. _“It's not his life after all.”_

 

Anne's face is now more or less squashed against his shoulder, her heartbeat clear and fast on his chest but she doesn't fight his hold on her. It's safe and warm and loving.

 

“ _I suppose I'll find out soon enough,”_ she eventually sighs, looking up.

 

There's deep affection in Aramis' eyes and when she kisses him, he tastes like that horrible toothpaste they had to buy upon their arrival because someone forgot to pack it. Yet didn't forget to take three extra pair of swimming trunks.

 

“ _And in the meantime, we'll take Sofia up on her offer and have a great time so you won't have to think too much about it. Agreed?”_ Aramis asks cheerfully, flashing a brilliant smile. Anne has to chuckle.

 

“ _Agreed.”_

 

Her eyes are drawn to their hands, fingers threaded together.

 

“ _And after you drop Mati with your parents, we'll see Porthos again!”_ he adds, seemingly very excited about this prospect.

 

Their boyfriend taking the minimum amount of time-off he can to fly to them. Aramis sure is beyond enthusiastic, even if their vacation without Porthos isn't dull in the least.

 

This reminder does make Anne perk up. The thought of being reunited with Porthos after such an ordeal as seeing her family is more than enough to make her wish time could fly.

 

“ _I....,”_ she starts, nervous again, chewing on her lip, trying to form words to describe the feeling that's been seizing her heart since they've boarded the plane.

 

“ _Yes?”_

 

“ _I know it's silly because there are times in Paris when I don't see either of you for days but....I.... I think....I think I'm missing Porthos. A lot.”_

 

Aramis tilts his head at her stammered confession, then shakes it and falls back on the bed, stretching. Watching Anne looming above him.

 

“ _That's not silly.”_

 

“ _It's only been three or so days,”_ she points out. That's the average time they're usually apart in Paris as well. Why would she feel different now?

 

“ _So? That doesn't have anything to do with it.”_

 

“ _Are_ you _missing him?”_

 

“ _A little,”_ Aramis replies after seconds of thinking it through. _“But I know I'm going to see him soon. And yes, it's weird to realize we haven't been apart for more than three days in almost two years but....we made it through realizing you and him had feelings for each other and also realizing Porthos and me were still safe nonetheless even if you're in the picture, Anne.”_

 

He rubs his beard, drags his hand over his chest to scratch his stomach and it's a distraction from his serious reflections.

 

“ _We're good, Anne. Porthos and I. I'm not saying it's easy but he'll be here eventually like he's always been and so will I. We're all right.”_

 

And he truly is. Aramis feels light hearing his words ring clearly in the bedroom. The setting sun is peering from in between the curtains, bathing the white linens and Anne's face as she looks down at him. It's lighting her skin and hair as if she were made of fire, casting out some of the insecurity in her body.

 

“ _That's good,”_ she says, relieved that the men's relationship isn't wrecked, that it hasn't changed drastically, that they're still trusting one another. _“I'm just....I'm not used to this feeling. Or at least I didn't expect it to be like this.”_

 

“ _Because it's been ages since you've actually dated someone you cared about?”_ Aramis hazards.

 

“ _Possibly. Also, I feel bad feeling this way when you're with me.”_

 

There's the hint of a blush blooming on her cheeks that Aramis won't have. He nudges her leg with his hand.

 

“ _I'd be jealous if you were going being my back. I don't think I could forgive you that but you're not. You've feelings for Porthos so I guess missing him is part of it, especially since it hasn't been so long for you._ _I don't quite miss you when we're apart because we've known each other for almost a decade. You can miss Porthos, Anne._ _He's your boyfriend, too. And let's face it, life is better when he's here.”_

 

There's such seriousness behind his last words that Anne has to laugh. She surrenders to Aramis tugging on her arm to make her lie down next to him.

 

“ _I wish he could be with us because I miss....hearing him laugh,”_ Anne starts. _“Or how grumpy he gets right after he wakes up.”_

 

She feels safe confiding in Aramis. They did say they could talk about anything and if there is anyone who can understand what it's like to love Porthos, it's obviously Aramis. Who laugs at her remark.

 

“ _How he'll scrunch his nose before opening his eyes? Yeah, that's cute. I used to miss those things, too. Now I look forward to them. Porthos loves you, though, you know?”_

 

It's a surprise even for Aramis to state this out loud and not feel jealous. It's the truth and it used to hurt. For these first painful days. Before he could fully understand that their love didn't have to be exclusive. Sometimes, Aramis is amazed with his own self. Who would have believed he had it in him? He's so possessive usually.

 

“ _He does,”_ Aramis continues, glad Anne is smiling again at his reassurance. _“And maybe he misses you, too. Who knows? Alone in Paris with only Athos to keep him company.”_

 

That's half a lie since Porthos' texts have been filled with accounts of his nightly plans with his best friend. He's not been feeling lonely so far.

 

“ _Maybe.”_

 

“ _What has he told you?”_ he inquires.

 

Porthos and him have been trying and succeeding not discussing Anne while they're apart. Except for trivial information about their whereabouts on holiday. She's not a mutual friend. She's their girlfriend and they each have a relationship with her along with one with each other. Still, it wouldn't be fair to her. So Aramis has also been trying not to discuss Porthos so far even though it looks like they're failing at this.

 

“ _I haven't called him,”_ Anne shrugs. Aramis sits up so fast, he feels dizzy before he can speak again.

 

“ _At all?”_

 

Anne shakes her head, blond hair on Aramis' eyes. He swallows, ponders not pushing it yet romantic relationships aren't something Anne is particularly familiar with. He doubts she'll be vexed if he presses the issue.

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“ _Wouldn't it bother him?”_ Anne shrugs again.

 

Aramis tries really hard not to roll his eyes. Instead he grabs her wrist, forces her to let go of the hem of her dress.

 

“My _texts and calls don't bother him. And no, it's not because we've been together longer._ _I don't see why yours would. If anything, I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. To know you're having fun. It might help with you missing him. To have some news. To talk about your day. Here,_ ” Aramis practically thrusts her cellphone in her hand, urging her to get in touch with Porthos right now.

 

“ _It doesn't bother you?”_

 

This time Aramis can't help rolling his eyes. Anne glares at him who's making fun of her and her worries.

 

“ _Anne, that's exactly what I was talking about just a minute ago. I'm trusting you because we're being honest. And besides, did I ask you before sending messages? You don't have to always ask permission._ _It's nice that you're thinking about me and taking me into account but no, it wouldn't bother me. I'd tell you if it did and I'd be a hypocretical ass.”_

 

“ _You've just been one,”_ she points out, clutching the phone, still staring hard at Aramis.

 

The sound that comes out of Aramis' mouth at her bitterness is very close to a giggle. She sits up too and he leans forward at once to tug on a loose lock of her hair. Anne nearly shoves him off the bed.

 

“ _Be sure to tell him just_ that _and he'll most likely agree with you. Are we good now?”_ He waist a couple of seconds for her reaction but the tension in shoulders seems to have gone away. _“Good. I'm getting an ice cream.”_

 

“ _Don't...”_

 

“ _Got it, don't worry.”_

 

Aramis will be as quiet as a mouse, having no desire to wake up Mati now that he's blissfully sleeping, tangled in his sheets.

 

Anne stares down at her cellphone now that she's by herself, feeling a little stupid indeed for being afraid of sending a text. Yet also moved to have someone as comprehensive and selfless as Aramis by her side. Someone who is also so correct in his assumptions. She's never felt that way with anyone else before Porthos and it's unsettling and unfamiliar. A bit thrilling. A lot.

 

She can't help the tremors in her fingers and it's ridiculous to be nervous about what to write. Especially when Porthos replies within literal seconds. Was he giving her space? She feels even more an idiot and happy at the same time. To no infringe upon the men's relationship, to build one of her own without having to worry about Aramis who has brought her an ice cream as well.

 

Even if it's not Porthos' actual voice it's an actual conversation they're having and she does sleep better that night. Snuggled close to a boyfriend and thoughts of her other on in her mind and her dreams.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_"Papá?"_

 

"Yes?"

 

_"I don't think I want to live in Paris anymore."_

 

Aramis looks up from the kitchen counter and the last orange he was pressing. Mati's sitting at the table, his back to his father, legs swinging, hitting the chair once in a while. Blond curls wave whenever he shakes his head and his toast has been reduced to shreads, Aramis realizes when he pulls the closest chair to sit down as well.

 

He tilts his head, tries to peer under the mass of messy hair to find out what new existential crisis his son is going through so early in the morning.

 

"Don't you want to live with Mamá or with Porthos and I?"

 

_"I don't want my skin to become more and more white,"_ Mati mutters, pressing fingers to his arm to test the theory.

 

".....What?" Aramis demands, a bit bewildered by the unexpected situation. "Who told you living in Paris would make your skin whiter?"

 

_"Ophelia. She said because it's in the Nor_ f _and there's less sun so my skin is going to be more white and one day I'll be transparent! I don't want that!"_ Mati almost sobs.

 

He would certainly hate this. With all his heart. He applies more pressure to his forearm. Ophelia has to be wrong but then again,, she's eight, almost nine. She's so smart, she's the best in her class, in her entire school even, she said.

 

Aramis swallows his chuckle, bites the inside of his cheek to hide his grin and instead, he reaches out to hug the boy and kiss his forehead, even if Mati fights against this.

 

"Your cousin's messing with you, buddy. No one in the history of the world has ever become transparent because they lived in the place with less sun than Spain."

 

_"Promise, Papá?"_

 

"I swear." Aramis crosses his heart, keeping Mati close and rubbing his little shoulder until the boy has calmed down. "Besides, do you remember Constance's wedding last weekend? It was so hot Mamá had to cover you in sunscreen all the time."

 

_"Yuck."_

 

Mati recalls how sticky his skin is because of sunscreen and how his mom wouldn't back down. She's been that annoying ever since they arrived in Spain, too. He likes the beach and the sea but not his hat or the sunscreen. Especially if it shields him from the sun and makes him so white he can't be seen at all. But if Papá promises then Papá must be right and his Papá is always right.

 

"Hey, Mati, I've also been living in Paris longer that you have, right? Do _I_ look transparent?"

 

Aramis makes a show of frantically checking his body, afraid that his niece's prank could be real and that he hadn't noticed the change in his skin. It sends the boy into fists of giggles until his tummy hurts.

 

_"No!"_ he shrills.

 

"Phew. Good. I was worried." Aramis wipes his forehead, takes a sip from his orange juice. "And look," he adds, stretching to grab his phone and unlock it. A picture of Porthos shines on the bright screen. "Porthos was even born in Paris and he's lived there his entire life. Surely, if Ophelia was correct, he'd _have_ to have disappeared by now, don't you think?"

 

_"Yeah...."_ Porfos is not transparent at all. Mati chews on a bit of his toast. He should never have believed Ophelia. She's a _girl._

 

"So there, you can use this as proof to show your cousin later," Aramis wiggles the phone.

 

Mati nods quickly, relieved, and he hops down from his chair as soon as the bathroom door opens. His mom has been in there for ages, so long that she almost entirely missed breakfast.

 

_"Mam_ _á_ _! I'm not going to be transparent!"_ he exclaims, following her to the bedroom.

 

_"Isn't that fantastic news!"_

 

Anne nonetheless looks up at Aramis, silently inquiring about what's going on. He shrugs behind their son.

 

"Is it okay if we continue living in Paris then?"

 

_"Yes!"_ Mati replies eagerly, looking behind his shoulder at his father leaning against the doorframe.

 

"Perfect. Go and finish your breakfast."

 

_"Transparent?"_ Anne asks after the boy has scampered away. Then she laughs out loud when Aramis recounts the conversation they've just had. _"He's so innocent."_

 

Aramis snorts at the children's silliness, a sentiment well-shared by Anne. Her steps light, she comes close to him to give him another good morning kiss. Kisses. One on his cheek and then another soft one on his lips. They're warm and they taste of food. Anne's hungry.

 

It's a new normal, to be as comfortable as always in his arms, surrounded by sunny, loving smiles. And yet to be able -and to want- to do more and not be rejected. She's feeling better. Still missing Porthos but talking about it has helped. Aramis always helps.

 

Later on at the beach, she's still giggling at the drama Mati was experiencing at breakfast. So are Aramis' sister and his brother-in-law. The only one who scowls is his niece. She's disappointed, a bit upset that her joke fell flat in the end, even though it worked the day before. It's soon outshone by sandcastles and the most gigantic fortress the kids can manage to build before destroying it all.

 

Their days have always been following the same pattern since the beginning of their holiday. Some hours at the beach in the morning before it gets too hot, then lunch, then a nap since it's the only way for Mati to make it through the day when he insists on waking up as early as 8. Not that he's a big fan of those naps. If only he could watch TV while falling asleep, it'd sure help him relax. Something which won't happen as there's no TV in the bedroom and it's where he has to lie down. Because it's cool and the curtains let the breeze in yet not too much sunshine.

 

At least his parents are with him so it's less lonely and they can tell him stories before he invariably falls asleep in the strangest positions in the middle of a tale. All this whining to not go to bed. A lot of wasted time in the end since Mati can be out for a couple of hours every afternoon.

 

Anne enjoys the quiet time, too. A time that in the past they would have used to discuss and plan the year to come. When Aramis would come visit in Madrid, how they would handle money and school and grandparents. Now they don't have to have all of these worries or if they do, they have better, more appropriate moments to discuss them than their vacation.

 

Her head is cradled on Aramis' chest, his arm is around her waist, his fingers roaming her back and then her arm. Up and down on her naked skin. Playing with the strap of her tank top. Her hand is on chest, feeling his stomach rise and fall steadily with each breath he takes. She could definitely fall asleep like this.

 

_"You're turning the opposite of transparent,"_ she comments in a whisper, looking up at Aramis and his chuckle. He clutches her arm in response. _"You tan so easily."_

 

_"Are you jealous?"_

 

_"A little bit,"_ Anne has to admit. She doesn't look that Spanish but Aramis, oh yes, he does. And he looks even more attractive with golden skin.

 

Aramis chuckles again, groans as he stretches on the bed.

 

_"I like having nothing to do. Nothing to worry about. And I like_ us _,"_ he says quietly, honestly.

 

The only thing he can reach is the top of Anne's head that he then kisses softly. Sheets rustle as she hoists herself up higher to be at his level so she can give him a proper kiss. Slowly and thoroughly, delighted by the simple admission and how easy it is for them to move forward.

 

Anne also likes how Aramis always waits for her to show that she wants to be kissed before he obliges.

 

He brushes her hair, cups the nape of her neck and Anne whimpers, pushes against his mouth, against his chest. She only stops when Aramis chuckles.

 

_"We're definitely doing more of this tomorrow,"_ she pants, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. Giddy from her own eagerness and how simple it is to desire Aramis. As if it was meant to be. It certainly was.

 

_"Well, I was hoping to take you to a fancy restaurant first because we can date, just the two of us, but, yes, I won't say no to more of this."_

 

_"Restaurant, yes. Of course."_

 

It's not every day Mati won't be with them and they won't have to pick a family-friendly place to eat out. Anne is so looking forward to a whole day with Aramis. Just the two of them indeed. One which won't be a disaster.

 

_"Anything else you'd like to do?"_ Aramis asks, a finger trailing along her cheek, under her chin then back up again to her eyebrow. He's so gentle she has to close her eyes and sigh. _"Apart from ravaging my mouth, that is,"_ he adds cheekily before he sucks in a breath. Anne has slapped his chest yet it only makes him snicker. He squeezes her waist. She's warm.

 

Mati makes the most peculiar sound in his sleep and both his parents still in their conversation to stare at the little boy before they have to try very hard not to laugh out loud.

 

_"I love him and he's precious but anything that doesn't include him will be great. Really,"_ Anne eventually manages to answer the question.

 

_"Great."_

 

Aramis yawns, tightening his hold on Anne who, upon noticing his contented look, with his eyes closed, kisses the corner of his mouth. And shuffles closer against his side after she's seen the happy smile forming on Aramis' lips.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis and Anne's date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I was also on holiday.

Aramis and Anne start off the day by saying goodbye to their son and packing him all the essentials he'll need for his night away. (Anne did the packing.) His sister's offer to take the child for a day so that his parents could go on a date developed into an actual sleepover for the cousins. Aramis suspects this is the result of the kids' scheming but he's more than enthusiastic to know he'll have Anne for himself for very long hours without having to worry about timing.

 

The only downside to this new arrangement is that they'll have to repay the favor and handle Mati, plus his two cousins the following day. _And_ night. Three children at once on his own, it's enough to make Aramis sweat and shiver with apprehension. God help him, his son alone is a lot of work already.

 

Which is why as soon as Mati has waved good bye with promises from his uncle and his aunt that they're going to have a fantastic day in spite of the cool weather, Aramis decides he's not going to worry about the next day until it's finally upon them. He has Anne to focus on.

 

The longest time they've spent just the two of them in perhaps forever. It hasn't been more than a couple of hours doing some they enjoyed together since Mati was born and nowadays, Porthos is usually often -if not always- with them. But lately, Aramis has also stopped being scared that Anne and him weren't cut out for dating on their own. They are more than capable. And he enjoys it.

 

It's refreshing, invigorating to go out together. Peculiar without his boyfriend and Aramis would feel guilty for not being able to stop thinking about Porthos if it wasn't a natural thing as well. Somehow, it's always the three of them, whether one is absent or not. With Anne holding on to his arm as they make their way into town and Porthos only a text away.

 

They wanted something fun for their date. Something different. And it's not like the small seaside town they are staying in offers that many historical or cultural sights, much to Anne's disappointment. Besides, they both agreed they'd try to steer away from familiar activities and their comfort zone, because that's what vacations are for.

 

“ _If Porthos was here, this would be off-limits, too,”_ Anne mumbles, pouting a bit while they wait in line at the little window.

 

“ _How so?”_

 

“ _Because it's_ sport _,”_ she stresses the word with unveiled discomfort. An adorable pout which makes Aramis laugh cheerfully before he nudges her hip.

 

“ _Now, if we had to rule out all outdoor activities because of that, we'd spend our days lazing away on the beach.”_

 

“ _It doesn't sound so bad to me.”_

 

“ _It'll be fun, I promise. We'll see the canyon and the guy said we could take a super easy route. And I'll be with you the entire time. At least it's not bungee jumping.”_

 

Aramis smiles down at her brightly and even with her sunglasses on, he's well aware she's glaring.

 

“ _The easi_ est _route.”_ Anne points a warning finger at him.

 

“ _Anything for the princess.”_

 

Then he swallows his grin as she elbows him in the ribs. He sucks in a breath, sulks at her smirk and grabs her shoulder to hug her close.

 

As it turns out, the view from the river is indeed breathtaking. The water is such a shade of light blue that Anne believes she could almost see the bottom of it. Clear and clean water and sometimes, when the sun peers from behind the while clouds, it hits the water and makes it sparkle beautifully.

 

The top of the canyon is so high, on both sides, that Anne stops craning her head after a few minutes of canoeing because it only hurts her neck, despite the gorgeous colors the rocks take. White and grey and then brown. So, so vertiginous Aramis jokes that if she leans back more to try to take it all in, she'll end up lying down in the canoe and he'll have to do all the hard paddling.

 

To which she answers by dipping her arm in the rather cold river to splash him. And herself at the same time. Aramis is sitting behind her so she can't quite look at him yet his laughter is so deep and genuine and it carries to her ears so easily that she has no problem picturing how he looks like. And it makes her smile, too.

 

This is not such a bad date idea after all. Even though her arms do start to hurt after a while. It's fun, though, since neither of them has done this before and it took some time getting used to the canoe and the paddles and how to keep a straight course on the river.

 

She's relieved that instead of rapids to stress over, they only see fish quickly swimming away from their paddles. Dragonflies buzzing around them. Birds in the sky, high above their heads. Even ducks lounging on the pebbles or the grass by the river.

 

There are nice, secluded beaches along the way and they stop on one after an hour or so. When Anne feels pain in her shoulders whenever she rolls them. A dip in the river being apparently the perfect remedy for this, as Aramis urges her to join him. He doesn't care much for the goosebumps on his arms once only his head is out of the water. He keeps on moving them to stay afloat.

 

Anne's hair spreads on the surface of the water as she comes closer to him, going deeper in the river until she has to start swimming because her feet don't touch the bottom and the slippery pebbles anymore.

 

If he wanted to be sappy, Aramis would say she looked like the most beautiful mermaid of them all. Blond hair hit by sunshine, blue eyes shining almost as bright as the water they're in. Except Aramis is feeling silly, so excited that they can have these moments to themselves without anyone else to bother them and to build a relationship which is theirs and doesn't solely revolve around their son.

 

So instead of paying Anne any cheesy compliment, he drifts closer to her until he can splash so much water on her face she's totally drenched.

 

“ _You jerk!”_ she splutters, spitting out river water and rubbing her eyes to get rid of the drops dripping from her forehead to her eyelashes.

 

Aramis can only giggle.

 

“ _And here I thought you were a well-bred, well-educated lady who knew better than to use such language.”_

 

“ _Come here and I'll show you just how well-mannered I am!”_

 

Aramis is still giggling in the face of her threats, shielding his eyes from her attacks. He manages to catch her wrist when she's become so agitated she didn't realize she was too close to him. He holds on to it, gropes under the water to find more flesh to hang on to. His hand eventually reaches the bare skin of her hip and her stomach. It doesn't stop Anne from kicking and Aramis has to surrender after the rather violent and painful kick in his shin. He hasn't stopped laughing, though, his hair dripping on his forehead.

 

Anne holds on to his shoulders, softened by his giddiness and she's so fierce she did win so she lets him kiss her sorry. And kiss her because. Her hair is in a tangle so his fingers in it hurt more than anything else this time. On the other hand, Aramis' hand on her hip, clutching, that's very nice. Much appreciated. There are goosebumps on her skin again, starting from where his fingers touch her but this time it's not because she's chilly.

 

Aramis would pinch himself to realize he's able to touch her like this knowing there's nothing wrong with it. That it's not going to wreck anything. That it's not forbidden. That slowly, he can move his hand lower to help her keep her balance and that it actually makes her shudder and press more into the kiss.

 

The feeling of his fingers grazing her swimsuit, his hand cupping her butt. She likes it. Being touched.

 

Even if it's only her arm when later they are lying down on the beach, drying off in the sun, staring at the clouds and trying to find out what they look like.

 

“ _I'm happy to oblige,”_ Aramis offers cheekily once she's confessed what it made her feel like to have his hands on her.

 

For once, Anne lets the jest slide because how horrible it would be if he decided to stop altogether. Worst reprisal ever. She's happy watching Aramis be goofy. It seems ridiculous to think that at one point she was nervous about dating him again. But then again, so was he.

 

“ _I've a confession to make,”_ she says bravely once they're back into town, that they've survived their trip on the river and that nobody has drowned like she half-feared.

 

There's pain in their arms so they've collapsed on the couch in their apartment before even hitting the shower. Anne is positive this is the only work-out she'll do for the rest of the month, if not of the summer.

 

Aramis has propped his feet on the messy coffee table, he's taken his sweaty, dirty t-shirt off.

 

“ _What is it?”_

 

“ _I suppose I was worried we'd have nothing to talk about apart from Mati or Porthos or work...”_

 

“ _We have plenty to talk about!”_ Aramis can't help cutting her off.

 

Even when they did let silence settle as it was nice to just listen to the water lick the shore or splash around the paddles, there was nothing awkward about it. They're at ease around one another even when by themselves for long periods of time. It shouldn't really baffle her. The fact that she doubted them makes her feel like an idiot. Oddly relieved as well.

 

“ _I see that now. But just in case, I can see that it's stupid now but I....downloaded....an app.”_

 

“ _An app? What for?”_ Aramis raises an eyebrow, curious. Also a little relieved, too, that they are fantastic at dating now, without any outside help.

 

“ _It's a first date questions app,”_ Anne mumbles.

 

Aramis can't help but cooe at her embarassment. He straightens up on the couch to shuffle to her side. And plants a kiss on her cheek. Her hair is in a messy bun and some loose locks have curled around her ears. He rubs her knee gently.

 

“ _That's very thoughtful and cute. Not stupid at all. Show me. Come on, it'll be fun,”_ he insists, palm open so she'll surrender her phone.

 

She does so reluctantaly, eyes him carefully as he locates the app, scrolls through the hundred of questions to finally make her choose a number so he can ask her a question.

 

Some they already know the answers to (24. What's your favorite color?).

 

Some are really tough to answer (95. If your life was a book, how would you name it?).

 

Some require so much thinking they give up on them (80. How would you define art?).

 

Some are funny (76. How many times have you lost your mobile, and were there any interesting ways?).

 

Some are quite enlightening (56. Have you ever experimented with drugs?).

 

Some are so on point about their current relationship that it brings some seriousness and thankfulness to their conversation (57. What is the most courageous thing you have ever done in your life? 83. In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?).

 

In the end, Anne has to agree that her idea was indeed not ridiculous at all but rather marvellous. They spend almost their entire dinner at the restaurant with the phone between them then each with their own once Aramis has also acquired the app. He's loving it, coming up with their own questions after a while.

 

Experiencing little hot flashes as some questions get so personal and intimate and a public setting isn't the best place to answer them.

 

(50. How do you feel about porn?)

 

(100. What turns you off the most?)

 

To which Anne, invigorated by the champagne, the candles on the table and Aramis' foot resting against hers underneath it, counteracts with her very own -and unashamed: What turns you _on_ the most?

 

Aramis catches the drop of coffee he almost spat out on his lower lip, licks it, all the while gawking at Anne, her boldness and her flushed cheeks. Her gaze flickers and Aramis' foot presses more against her ankle.

 

He thinks he's been good tonight. Taking her out to a fancy restaurant, a perfect reward after a tiring afternoon. Paying her exquisite and honest compliments because just watching her in her immaculate dress, her glittering high heels and the butterfly-shaped clips in her hair, you wouldn't think she's been slaving away in their canoe for hours earlier. A magical vision. A description Porthos agreed with when Aramis couldn't help but send a selfie. He shouldn't be the only one able to bask in her beauty.

 

They both look fantastic, Porthos even praised. Wishing he could there with them. Nonetheless happy they're having fun and enjoying each other's company on their vacation. He made fun of Aramis' unfocused eyes on the picture, said he couldn't wait to be with them again and wished them a great night.

 

So of course, Aramis is quite awestruck that Anne is relaxing more and more in their relationship. In all aspects of it. They've a new-found intimacy to cherish as a reward, which is where they have the most to discover about one another.

 

He likes how she's shedding her shyness and apprehension more and more everyday.

 

“ _One day I'll show you,”_ he answers her unexpected question.

 

“ _What? I can say I think I wouldn't like sleeping with someone who has dirty feet, don't laugh at me again,”_ Anne points a severe finger at him, _“but you can't answer my question?”_

 

“ _Coz I'd rather show you,”_ he repeats, grabbing her hand on the table. _“It'll be much better if I do.”_

 

Because just thinking about surrendering completely to Porthos -or even to Anne if one day she wants to try-, just thinking about complying to orders, about being held down, it's making Aramis squirm on his chair. It fills his mind with powerful, exciting images. It makes him too hot for the restaurant.

 

He pulls on the collar of his shirt even if the top buttons have never been done in the first place. Then he winks at Anne who is so interested, so curious, she wishes Aramis hadn't just fed her too little information.

 

“ _I like when....I'm not in control,”_ he eventually explains after they've left the restaurant and they're taking a stroll back to the apartment, along the pier with the yachts and the giant boats.

 

Anne wipes her head around, needing a few seconds to realize what he's talking about now.

 

“ _In bed,”_ he supplies to help her but it's not necessary. The fresh air has helped clear his thoughts a bit. He can talk about it. _“I just like....surrendering and knowing who's in charge could do whatever they wanted to me and yet wouldn't hurt me. If that makes sense.”_

 

Anne nods, clutching his hand, pressing closer to his side. It only takes a moment to conjure up such a picture of Aramis -and incidentally Porthos- in her mind. She already has plenty of those to last her through long lonely nights yet this is a new one. An enticing, appealing one. _This_ is what turns _her_ on the most: imagining the men in bed, watching them.

 

“ _I think you were right,”_ she decides. _“I'd rather enjoy you showing me this.”_

 

Aramis blinks at the truthful admission, has to grin and lean in to kiss her. Full on the lips, his tongue darting inside her mouth, swirling around her own. Her lips mold against his, his hands are strong on her hips and hers grip his shirt, his hair. One of the poles lining the pier digs a little in Anne's lower back and she has to balance her weight by grabbing the rope keeping people from trespassing on the dock during the night.

 

A part of Aramis is aware they'd be better indoors to keep on kissing, to continue this conversation. Then again, they certainly aren't the first ones to be so tightly tangled together in plain sight of strangers. The place is moreover deserted. There's not a human sound to be heard except for cars. The water hitting the boats, the dock, is like a soothing lullaby and Anne's lips are silky, warm, so readily opened that it's easy to focus on them and forget about the rest of the world.

 

“ _Okay?”_ he asks in a gasp, his fingers creeping lower again along the invisible seam of her dress. Grazing her back, the curve of her ass. Tickling just enough to make it good. Anne sighs in his mouth. A sound close to a moan.

 

“ _Okay.”_

 

Then some idiot honks in the darkness from the confine of their cars and it dampens the mood considerably. Aramis flips off whoever ruined the moment, finishes kissing Anne before she straightens her dress, giggling in spite of herself. Out of embarassment certainly. Aramis chuckles, too, grabs her hand and decides that in the end, yes, it's much better to resume their pleasant activities at home.

 

Until he makes the mistake of wanting to ask Anne another question to distract her from her blushing. And it ends up being the worst question so far. Or the best. Definitely the best if they didn't have some pre-established rules they agreed on with Porthos.

 

“ _18......18. Here we go. 18. If I was an ice cream, how would you eat me?”_

 

Aramis gulps, double-checks his phone, looks up at Anne who has started in her walk. She's pointedly looking straight in front of her, heels clicking on the sidewalk.

 

“ _Seriously? How's this a_ first _date question? Talk about awkward. You don't have to answer it. Give me another number,”_ Aramis urges her.

 

“ _I'm not really good with words, you know that,”_ she manages to say instead after the first seconds of surprise have passed.

 

She's growing comfortable in bed with them, being reacquainted with sex, liking it immensily and more each time. Sometimes she feels like she's being starved, not living with the men and having to wait for day before they can touch her again. And she can touch them. But voicing in clear, precise words what she wants, Aramis and Porthos have such a headstart on this. She feels ridiculous speaking about her desires, speaking during sex. Maybe it'll change, maybe it won't.

 

“ _But I suppose that perhaps, one day....,”_ she continues, _“....I can also show you how I'd answer this question.”_

 

Anne looks briefly at Aramis, sparks in her eyes and the reverence and awe in _his_ are worth all the courage she's been mustering ever since embarking on their special relationship. Aramis swallows hard, adores the air of carelessness Anne gives herself when he knows how far she's come.

 

Her answer makes him as uncomfortable in his somehow smart clothes as thinking about sex with Porthos does.

 

“ _Damn it,”_ he curses, both because he can't find the correct key to open the front door and because he can't shake her promising words from his memory.

 

“ _What is it?”_

 

“ _You really shouldn't have said that,”_ Aramis mutters. _“I mean, it's nice and_ hot _to know that's something to look forward to but it's not helping that we can't do anything about it now.”_

 

Because they have rules with Porthos. About sex whenever Anne is involved. If it's the men alone then there's nothing to discuss. They can do whatever they want, whenever they want. But they all agreed that so long as Anne was in the picture, it would always be the three of men. Not just her and one boyfriend. Her and both. For sex. Kissing is fine. Groping, too, more or less, Aramis guesses, if clothes are still on.

 

Now, though, Anne's words and their entire latest conversation tonight have turned him on and he wishes that since they are inside and it's just the two of them, they could continue their great evening in bed. Except they can't and it's a slow, burning torture.

 

“ _Sorry?”_ Anne hazards, taking off her shoes, hopping to the couch.

 

Aramis looms next to her, hands on his hips, clearly troubled. He pulls his shirt from his pants, undoes one more button and flaps his shirt as if to fan his chest.

 

“ _I can still kiss you,”_ he decides after a while. This is a perfectly fine solution and he loves kissing his people.

 

Anne likes it, too. Her hands come up to his neck, pulling him in, making him stumble unto her and the couch. A weight which makes it hard to breathe until they settle into a much better position, her legs folded on the couch, her dress riding up her legs to expose the bare calves. Aramis' hand settles on the smooth skin at once, rubbing slowly. Anne ends up almost on his lap, eager to be in his warm arms.

 

“ _Also, there's nothing to apologize for,”_ he whispers against the skin of her neck, his lips gliding to her ear, his beard scratching the delicate skin. He does it again when Anne tilts her head and sighs.

 

She's got a firm hold on his more-or-less open shirt, toying with the buttons, her fingernails grazing his chest once in a while. She's pressed so tight to his side, inches away from his crotch that maybe simple kissing wasn't such a good idea either.

 

Anne relishes in the pressure on her neck, Aramis' fingers massaging the nape of her neck, cupping it as his tongue dives in her mouth. As his hand inches so much higher on her leg, past her scratched knee and on her soft thigh that she's barely breathing anymore.

 

She never imagined she could want Aramis _so_ much. She did after all when she was younger but she believed this was over. Obviously not. Everything he's doing is like, setting her on fire and damn it, too.

 

“ _I_ love _kissing you,”_ she pants in between those very kisses and the wandering hand roaming her back, the fingers trailing the edge of her underwear, it makes her snap out of it, even if a little.

 

There's a tortured look in Aramis' eyes, one that says he agrees, that he's aware they'll have to stop soon and that he'll probably have to finish by himself in the bathroom. Anne is making him hard. It's a look which conveys how great they're feeling and yet how much the situation sucks.

 

“ _I wish Porthos could be with us. So badly,”_ he confesses, forehead against hers. His hot breathing fanning on her cheeks. _“More now than before.”_

 

Her breasts heave with each panting breath. She's not wearing a bra and their motion is mesmerizing.

 

Aramis throws his head back, swears under his breath. He needs a shower. Or two. Or a dip in the sea.

 

Then his phone chimes, the screen lights up on the coffee table. A message from his sister, saying that Mati is in bed. Which is nice to know but right now, he couldn't care less. No, what sparks his interest is the little bright green circle next to Porthos' name on the app. The one which shows that he's online.

 

And Aramis suddenly has a brilliant, exciting idea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thanks to my fantastic friend Diana for the great date idea. 
> 
> -All the questions from the app are real ones taken from that very same app. It's called "My First Date" (on Android). I downloaded it just for them.


	5. Chapter 5

Fingers struggling to type, Aramis acts at once on his clever idea, all bent on reaching out to Porthos as soon as he can. Until Anne shifts next to him, her arm around his shoulder, flushed to his side. Breathing somehow quietly even though she's still panting. And Aramis realizes he should tell her about his brilliant plan rather than surprise her. He doesn't send the message.

 

“ _Hey, I'm going to see if I can call Porthos.”_

 

“ _What? Now?”_

 

Right when they were so engrossed in one another? That she was getting so comfortable and that his kisses were making her skin hot and tingly? She pushes away the curl brushing her cheek. The one her hairclip has let loose after Aramis's intense adoration. Anne is still sensible enough to attempt to understand what such a call at such a time would entail. She doubts she'd be included. It'd be rude.

 

“ _Yeah. I think I've found a loophole.”_

 

“ _To what?”_ Maybe she isn't as clear-headed as she assumed. He's losing her a little.

 

Aramis turns to look at her, his face still mere inches from hers. From her sparkling eyes and her shining lips. From the pink eye shadow whenever Anne blinks and the smeared lipstick he can taste on his lips whenever he licks them. She's delectable, Aramis is hungry but he supposes it's worth waiting for for now.

 

Instead, he kisses her cheek, breathes in the faint hint of perfume.

 

“ _To not being able to have sex if it's not the three of us together.”_

 

“ _By calling Porthos?”_

 

“ _By_ video _calling him,”_ Aramis specifies, staring straight at Anne and not relinquishing his gaze until realization and understanding of what he intends on doing hits her. He can pinpoint the exact moment it does. He's close enough to feel her heartbeat, how it speeds up, how her cheeks grow pinker.

 

“ _Oh.”_

 

It's all she can say at first, feeling stupid for thinking Aramis would exclude her so readily, leaving her frustrated. Her stomach churns at the unexpected proposition.

 

“ _I've....never...done that before,”_ she adds softly and now it's a good time to take off her hairclips, to have something to do with her hands.

 

“ _Believe me or not, neither have I,”_ Aramis chuckles, retrieving the golden butterflies from her grasp to put them on the table. He grabs her hand and squeezes. _“But it's either that or having to finish off by ourselves. Without each other. I mean, I don't know if you can just go to bed and forget about that,”_ he gestures at them both, at her bare legs almost on his lap, at his open shirt and how his entire chest heaves whenever Anne moves. So, so close.

 

He'd never break Porthos' trust, neither would she, not now. Yet it'd royally suck to have to wind down all by himself, all alone. Especially if they have to share the same bed.

 

Anne could almost certainly calm down and go to sleep, even though standing under warm water in the shower would probably help. But she's almost certain she would toss and turn for hours before falling asleep. Frustrated, longing for missed opportunities. She's apprehensive about what Aramis is suggesting. It's unknown territory yet at the same time she can't help the exciting thrill running through her veins and overpowering her doubts a bit.

 

It's her boyfriends and if that's the solution for her to feel good then so be it.

 

“ _Call him,”_ Anne decides abruptly.

 

Aramis' face lights up, his lips are on hers, his hands framing her face, the phone dropped to the couch. It's a more heated kiss, his fingers grazing lower, close to her breasts because soon hopefully he'll be able to touch them without any clothing covering them. Annes ends up almost straddling him, itching, pressing for more touches.

 

Aramis' fingers quiver as he eventually sends a message to his boyfriend.

 

***Are you there?***

 

He sure hopes Porthos is or it's going to be even more painful than he assumed.

 

***Hey, what's up?** *

 

***Are you busy right now?** *

 

***Watching TV. That dumb show about blind dates** *

 

***By yourself?** *

 

***Yeah Charon cancelled on me coz they needed him at the hospital :(** *

 

***Sucks** * But also thank God, Aramis had forgotten this was the evening Porthos and his friend were supposed to hang out. * **I'm calling you, if that's okay** *

 

***Sure** *

 

“Hi!” Porthos greets them after they've connected and he's realized the simple call is actually a video chat. After the mic has decided to cooperate. He takes in both of their smiling faces, pressed together. The dishevelled hair. He settles a little more comfortably on the couch, mutes the TV.

 

And Aramis decides that maybe he was wrong and he did miss his boyfriend more than he presumed. The great smile, the dimples, the way their eyes meet and he feels truly, absolutely at home. Even through a screen.

 

“What have you two been up to?” Porthos teases because it looks like Aramis has used his mouth to take off Anne's make-up and it's a messy job to say the least. His chuckle makes Anne giggle awkwardly.

 

“Kissing,” she concedes.

 

“I assumed that much.”

 

“Which is part of why we're calling,” Aramis steps in. “We're having some kind of problem.”

 

“You forgot how to kiss and need my advice?”

 

“No, shut up. My kissing is formidable,” he praises over Porthos' mocking remark. The image wobbles when Porthos makes himself more comfortable, one arm on the back the couch and his head resting in his hand. He's missed hearing Aramis' offended tone.

 

“Of course it is, cupcake. What is it then?”

 

“We can't do more than kissing if you're not here because rules, which was about to turn into some sad and pathetic jerking off in the shower but lucky us, now you're here!” Aramis exclaims, stretching his arm as far as he can so that Porthos can have a more global view of the both of them. “So we, well I, but Anne agrees....”

 

She nods to confirm, looking intently at the screen. How easy it is to see emotions shift on Porthos' face. Confusion and curiosity. Interest. The screen goes fuzzy when Aramis shakes his arm because after all that paddling it hurts. He rolls his shoulders while Porthos waits for him to finish his explanation.

 

“Sorry. So. We were wondering if you being here even via a screen meant we weren't breaking any rule.”

 

“About?” Porthos taunts.

 

“Sex, Porthos. The three of us together.” He apparently states the obvious, given the wicked grin he can notice now spreading on his boyfriend's face. His plan was truly genius.

 

“Live porn? Put me down for that!”

 

His dick most certainly approves. Porthos turns the TV off altogether. He doesn't hesitate for a single second. Sleeping by himself sucks now that he's used to at least being able to touch someone at night even if it doesn't lead to anything. And sure he won't be touching anyone tonight either but watching the others, hearing them, yes it's turning him on all right.

 

For almost a minute, he can't see or hear more than clothes ruffling, the sounds of shoes against tiled floors. Quick steps followed by a close-up of Aramis' face as he tries to position his phone correctly. All the while chuckling to himself.

 

“How's that?” Aramis asks, letting go of the phone, hoping it won't slide down on the precarious installation he's just made up.

 

They've moved to their bedroom and Anne's dress isn't the same shade of white as the bed she's now sitting on. But Porthos can see everything perfectly. He says so to Aramis who winks.

 

“I should have been a director.”

 

“Working in the porn industry. I can see you doing that. Writing scripts.”

 

“A waste of my talents,” Aramis tuts.

 

“Depends on which talents we're talking about.”

 

“I love you,” he professes to the sceen, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt and letting it fall to the floor before he starts working on his belt. He doesn't quite know who to look at then he settles for Porthos because after all, Anne will have all the leisure to touch him whereas his boyfriend won't.

 

So he takes his time, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. Then just for the show, he pushes his underwear down so they ride lower on his hips. He keeps them on, though, grinning mischievously and letting Porthos lust for all the exposed flesh.

 

And it's quite working for Porthos. It's like his hand has a mind of its own, resting on his thigh, where he can feel the heat of his crotch. He doesn't go there yet. He looks, riveted, as Anne reaches behind her back then enlists Aramis' help and the dress puddles at her waist, revealing enticing, full breasts. No bra and Porthos adores that.

 

For a split second, Anne almost covers her chest then remembers it's Porthos who's looking at her so she's safe. She looks back at the phone, her arm dropping back to her side.

 

He's a little amazed she's agreed to an idea which must have come from Aramis. She's still a bit shy in the bedroom and Porthos likes her even more for going out of her comfort zone. Truth be told, he's never watched his boyfriend _and_ his girlfriend have sex on his phone either. He knows this isn't something Aramis has done either. It's all new and exciting and he realizes the shallow breathing he's hearing isn't coming from his phone. It's coming from him.

 

“I was telling Aramis earlier that I've....I've never watched porn,” Anne says quietly and this, Porthos has no problem believing. He can't quite fathom the thought but it's on character.

 

Her breath catches in her throat, soothed by Aramis' open kisses in her neck, the way his fingers brush her hair out of the way on her right shoulder so he can slide his lips from her ear to her collarbone. She reclines against his chest and the arm across her stomach holding her tight so she can shuffle out of the dress. To be left wearing nothing but white panties, sitting between Aramis' legs spread on either side of her.

 

“Which is irrelevant,” he assures her. She's doing so much better than any actresses could, her tongue smooth against his, tremors coursing through her stomach as his fingers brush back and forth on the silky skin.

 

“You're beating any movie,” Porthos agrees, watching the swelling of her breasts and the perfect view of everything they are giving him.

 

The loud moan against Aramis' mouth when his fingers brush the underside of her breast before he cups it in his palm. Rubbing firmly, making Anne arch her back. Her leg thrashes on the bed and she drops her head to Aramis' shoulder. So low her hair tickles and her back presses against his cock when she slides a little down, lying on his chest now.

 

Porthos grips his cock through the fabric of his jeans, clutching and rubbing the denim. Hypnotized by Aramis' flat hand massaging her breasts. The silence which has settled amongst them almost immediately. Only punctuated by heavy sighs, the evident signs that Anne is enjoying herself. How her nipples harden more everytime she feels Aramis' skin on them. She lets out a strangled noise when he circles one with a lone finger, wet from his mouth and the shudder in her body makes him grind against her. She's holding on to his thigh, smoothing the bare skin.

 

She's smiling, Porthos is biting his lip, feeling his cock hardening. He pops the button of his jeans open. His breathing quickens and Anne's catches when Aramis' right hand, the one splayed on her stomach, moves lower and settles between her legs, on top of her underwear.

 

She bucks her hips against the still hand, tilts her head up for another kiss. Aramis' tongue licks along her bottom lip, teases for her to reach up and get more. When she's too deep in the kiss, her tongue so far down in his mouth he could probably kiss such a needy Anne all night long, Aramis pushes his hand against the heat of her pussy. Pressing down, going slow but being thorough. Anne gasps in his mouth, moans and pants. Rests her forehead in the crook of his neck. She spreads her legs more and Aramis stares up at the phone, checking if Porthos is still with them.

 

He very much is. With his hand down his pants and his pants almost down to his knees. He's feeling so hot. He rolls his shoulders, shifts the angle of the camera so it's directed at his crotch.

 

“Open your eyes,” Aramis urges Anne, pleased and aroused that Porthos is enjoying himself.

 

He rolls her nipple again, rubs between her legs as they watch Porthos' hand move up and down in his underwear. He can make out the tip of Porthos' cock and he's yearning for it. To be able to do the same to his boyfriend.

 

Aramis slips his hand down Anne's panties as well, his fingers coating with the wetness he could already feel through the fabric. Flesh on hot flesh and Anne struggles to not close her eyes. Her heart is bursting in her chest, she can feel the beads of sweat gathering on her skin.

 

“I wish that could be my mouth instead of your hand,” Aramis says to the screen and Porthos moans at the thought.

 

He refocuses the camera so he can look at the others, hungry to keep on watching. He swears at the picture they're offering, sprawled on their bed.

 

“Yeah, I stole your move, too.”

 

Aramis' fingers glide on the tingling skin and Anne can't help the shuddering of her legs. How her toes curl on the white sheets when he brushes against her clit. Taking his time, making her pleasure stretch.

 

Porthos can make out the moments his boyfriend touches spots on Anne which make her writhe. How she relaxes when he goes slow and how she starts panting whenever he goes faster. The way she grips his thigh and she can't keep still, rubbing against his chest. Aramis can feel the weight of her breasts in his hand and she can feel the wetness of his open mouth on her jaw.

 

She cries out when he slips a finger inside of her. Seeking his mouth and the grin he's sporting. She's so wet and Aramis is so hard from having her so readily and willingly available. Her nails dig in his shoulder where she's anchoring herself, moaning louder and louder. So loud Porthos would almost imagine she was in the same room as him. That he could reach out and fuck her, too.

 

“Take those off,” he orders and Anne is pliant in Aramis' arms while he does so, sliding her panties down her thighs until they're out of the way and Anne's naked under Porthos' gaze. No longer self-conscious.

 

With a clear, unobstructed view of her pussy and Aramis' fingers back inside of her, Porthos does the same, taking off his underwear. Trying to go slow on his cock because this indeed beats any porn movie he might have seen in the past. He doesn't want to come too fast.

 

His grip turns to feather touches on his cock, deep breaths while he gazes at his boyfriend sucking on Anne's tongue. At his thumb pressing on her clit, at his palm cupping her pussy before she bears down on his fingers again.

 

The pressure on her clit is unbearable, so hard and overwhelming. Her breasts heave in Aramis' hand, her stomach is melting and she's lost count of how long she's been moaning for. Those and the sounds of Aramis fingering her are overpowering. It's not even teasing, it's full on pure sex and this was the most brilliant idea Aramis ever had.

 

Porthos shudders at the pad of his fingers grazing his cock, his balls and he clutches it harder, feeling it pulse in his palm. Anne is thrashing in Aramis' arms, pushing against his fingers, clearly desperate for more and she throws her head back, comes when he rolls a nipple between two fingertips and rubs her clit so fast she feels like he's hurting her beautifully. She gasps, doesn't think about what she's doing as she puts her own hand over Aramis' between her legs and he lets her trap it there. In and against her, until she's gasping a bit more normally.

 

“Aren't we lucky Porthos answered our call?” he whispers knowingly, his lips on her temple, his gaze flickering to the phone.

 

Porthos has to look away for a moment or else he'll come as fast as Anne did and he hasn't even seen Aramis' dick yet. He breathes out through his mouth.

 

Anne nods, at a loss for actual words. She attempts to sit up straighter on the bed. The sound of approval which comes out of Porthos en lieu of a proper answer resembles wheezing. He can't even begin to express how thankful he is for the unexpected turn his evening has taken. And here he was thinking about going to bed just before Aramis texted him.

 

“And I'll make you come again,” Aramis promises, his lips now on Anne's ear, the tip of his tongue on her skin.

 

She exhales, not sure how much more she could take yet she can't fight the feeling of anticipation spreading through her body at the thought. Replacing the feeling of loss as he reclaims his fingers.

 

“Yeah, he's good at that.”

 

“Thanks, sweetie,” Aramis beams at the screen. The only thing he hates is that Porthos is too far away to properly join them. He's getting a kick out of having sex with Anne for Porthos' eyes only. “Because I'd like to show you how I'd answer that last question from earlier.”

 

Anne's mind is a tangled fog and she can't quite focus on anything that isn't Aramis right now. His arms holding her close. His hand on the nape of her neck, making her look up and notice the burning lust in his eyes. That's thrilling, to have this effect on him. She reaches up for his mouth with swollen lips. Her words echoe on his lips when she eventually remembers what he might be talking about.

 

“The one about the ice cream?”

 

“Yes....”

 

It had embarassed her in the street. The strange wording and how straightforward the question had been, devoid of any context. How awkward it would be indeed to ask -or even answer- it during a first date. Especially with someone you hardly knew. Now, though, she's naked and spent and Aramis' erection is so obvious in her back, radiating heat on her skin that the question doesn't sound so uncomfortable. Not when she's letting one boyfriend watch while the other is in bed with her.

 

“What's that about ice cream?” Porthos chimes in. They've lost him a little.

 

“Well, earlier we were asking questions from that app about first dates,” Aramis explains, “and the last one was something along the lines of if I were an ice cream, how would Anne eat me and...”

 

“Damn, now I've got all those images in my head,” he curses, gripping his cock, sweeping his thumb over the cockhead and shivering from his own ministrations. “How much do you care about this pillow?” He flashes the one closest to him for Aramis to assess.

 

“A lot. Go get one of my tee-shirts if you need something.”

 

Porthos groans at needing to get up to finally decide their bed is as comfortable as the couch so he settles there. Naked now with a tee-shirt his boyfriend approves of. Anne laughs at their exchange, how it shifts from the heavy, loaded atmosphere before returning to it.

 

“All good? Good. So, I was saying. There was this question which believe me I haven't stopped thinking about since then and since we can show you, that's a much better answer than talking. As far as I'm concerned.” Aramis takes a deep breath.

 

“Agreed,” Porthos says.

 

The tee-shirt lays on his lap, it does smell a little like Aramis under the laundry detergent and if Porthos were to close his eyes he could imagine his boyfriend by his side, his mouth around his cock. Much hotter than the lube Porthos is now using. Except closing his eyes is the one thing he won't do. The spectacle of Aramis lying Anne down on the bed, their mouths locked and their tongues swirling around one another keeps Porthos riveted.

 

How Aramis looms above her, his hands flat on the sheet on either side of her face. How his cock strains in his underwear, its outline against the fabric that Porthos can see from time to time when Aramis moves. How the fabric has turned redder where the cockhead is resting. Aramis' back shakes when Anne reaches to touch his crotch, running her fingers along the hard-on she could feel earlier. How hot it is and how Aramis' fingers have made her desperate for more. For something better and bigger. She almost chokes on Aramis' wild tongue thrusting in her mouth.

 

He collapses a bit on top of her, holding some of his weight back but he grinds his hips, his cock aching for her pussy. The friction of clothing on it is almost better. Anne clutches his back, nails on the skin grazing, helping push his underwear out of the way until Porthos is rewarded with a very fine view of his boyfriend's ass. And how his cock finally rubs against Anne's wet and stimulated pussy.

 

Aramis groans against her neck, bucking his hips. Porthos' hips do about the same in his hand and he fists the duvet.

 

“Are you gonna fuck her for the both of us?” he asks, losing patience. Losing control and wondering if perhaps _they_ can make him come more than once.

 

“It'll be my....pleasure,” Aramis gasps, pulling on Anne's lip with his teeth, watching her pant beneath him. She's reaching for him as well, clutching the sweaty skin of his waist. Perhaps they'll have to experiment on the ice cream question later after all.

 

“Wait,” Anne manages to huff out, her hand flat on his chest. She might not gather that much courage later when she's not high on her orgasm and the entire situation they're in. “I did say I wouldn't mind showing you how I'd answer that question as well.”

 

Her own voice surprises her. Sultry, honeyed with desire and passion and Aramis thrusts against her without really meaning to. His cockhead rubs against her clit again and she smiles, happy.

 

“The ice cream question,” she supplies since he seems to have lost all train of thought.

 

Aramis swallows thickly, doesn't even fight when she pushes against his chest to prompt him to lie down. Her hair is all over the place, down to her shoulders, in her mouth, in her eyes. Her fingernails trail along the length of his cock. It's hard and so much more aroused by her words and her actions. Aramis is afraid if he dares look at Porthos, he might come on the spot.

 

It's the same dilemma his boyfriend is facing. Except not looking is not an option. Picturing Anne bending over _his_ crotch is effortless. She licks her lips, does look at the screen, looking for validation and finding Porthos staring is empowering.

 

Her hair tickles Aramis' lower stomach and his inner thigh. Coupled with her open mouth replacing her fingers on his cock, it makes for a startling combination. She kisses her way to the cockhead. Her tongue laps at it slowly, in thorough circles. Suckling the pre-come like she would an ice cream cone. Licking along the length of his cock as if to collect dripping, melting sorbet.

 

Aramis gropes for her hand on the bed because there's no way in hell he won't come in her mouth if he looks at her. And he won't come after mere seconds. That'd be a waste. He holds on to her hand, threads their fingers together and Anne's lips smile against his cock. He gives her more confidence that he could ever imagine.

 

Her mouth glides back to the cockhead and she sucks on it before taking most of the cock in her mouth. Lowering herself on it as she would a particularly tasty popsicle. Swirling her tongue around it. Sucking thoroughly on the tip whenever she comes up. Drinking in the scent like she would a frozen treat. Aramis' free hand rests on her ass, kneading and when he moans, it's echoed by a much guttural sound coming from the phone.

 

Porthos doesn't care where the boldness is coming from, he's simply glad Anne is opening up to them, learning to enjoy sex and sharing her fabulousness with them. She's been staring at him ever since she's started blowing Aramis. Flashing her pink tongue around the glistening cock. Inviting Porthos in. He sure has been jerking off faster, watching her breasts move as well. Wishing he could suck on those swell nipples like she's doing on Aramis' dick. He wishes it could be his cock in Anne's pussy instead of Aramis' fingers again. Fucking her while she sucks him off.

 

He says so in between pants and Aramis curses, thrusts deeper inside Anne and it makes her moan around his cock.

 

Aramis finally locks eyes with Porthos when he tries to come up with a clever reply to this. There is none. Knowing it's something the three of them are ready to do is such a powerful stimulation. That and the motion of Porthos' arm on the screen even if he can't see much of it.

 

It comes over Aramis so fast he doesn't even think about warning Anne. He has time for nothing but a startled yelp and a groan, his finger buried in Anne's pussy, rubbing restlessly. Anne stills for a second, surprised, then has no choice but to swallow and does so with a gulp so loud it echoes in her ears. Aramis' cock pulses in her mouth before she lets it go.

 

“Sorry,” he gargles, reclaiming both of his hands to stretch until there's not a single tension in his entire body and the warmth of his orgasm makes him pleasantly ecstatic.

 

Anne makes a face, rocks back on her heels and would miss Aramis' touch if she wasn't still processing what just happened.

 

“How badly did you like that tee-shirt?” Porthos asks, panting as well.

 

Aramis coming in front of his eyes was all he needed to come, too. To see it from afar. To see the presages and how it took hold of his boyfriend's body and his mind, rendering him boneless. Porthos couldn't have wished for a better sight. He wipes his hand on the garment.

 

Aramis shrugs, decides that for now it doesn't really matter if he can't wear it again. Porthos takes the shrug as a good sign.

 

“I'd say you answered that question with flying colors, Anne,” he adds. “10/10.”

 

“Yeah,” Aramis agrees, bringing his hand to Anne's back, rubbing softly.

 

She smiles back. At him and at Porthos. She did that. To both of them. She's rather proud. Still....

 

“That tasted.....horrible.” She makes a disgusted face Porthos can't help but snort at.

 

Aramis ignores the pain as he sits up too fast to hug her.

 

“I'm sorry. Next time I'll try to warn you.”

 

She lets him kiss her. And again.

 

“Next time?”

 

“Hell yeah next time. I really liked that,” Aramis whispers against her lips and she smiles again. “I'll get you something to drink,” he says in a yawn and then he's out of the bedroom.

 

“What happened to your knee?” Porthos asks, able to focus on other aspects of her naked body now. His heart is still hammering in his chest like it's never done when he used to watch porn before.

 

Anne glances at the scratches, the bruise she can feel blooming on her skin.

 

“The canoe capsized,” she pouts. The only dark cloud on an otherwise perfect day. Both her knees hurt. Her elbow, too.

 

“Are you all right?” he almost shouts before realizing how stupid his concern is. They just had sex. They're perfectly well. “I mean, how did it happen?”

 

“There was a freaking rock where there shouldn't have been one and we were looking at that deer and next thing we knew we were in the water,” Aramis explains, dragging his feet. “We only lost the bottle of water which is now somewhere in the river. We're okay. Here you go.” He hands Anne a glass of water to rinse her mouth, drinks from his own and sits back down next to her. “It was fun, though.”

 

After hours, Anne can concede that he is correct. After they realized no harm -no vital one at least – had been done. It only secured Anne in her conviction that she would never, ever go canoeing again. But now, back on safe ground in a warm snuggle with Aramis and with Porthos being concerned on the phone, she's feeling loved and cherished and the tingling sensation in her bones is still very much present. She enjoys that afterglow.

 

“Thanks for calling, guys.” Porthos lies down on his bed, craddling a pillow under his cheek, for lack of a better cuddling partner.

 

“Thanks for answering.” Aramis downs his water.

 

“I needed that,” Porthos goes on. “We should do it again.”

 

“Yep. Absolutely. Not tomorrow night, though. We're on babysitting duty.” Aramis crunches his nose reluctantly. It was worth it to have tonight but still. “Mati and my nephew _s_.”

 

“All three of them? Fuck.”

 

“I know,” Aramis whines, the sound loud and clear for Porthos now that his boyfriend has gathered the phone and holds it close. Anne rubs her nose against his neck and chuckles at how worried he seems. Then Aramis yawns, which prevents him from complaining again.

 

“At what time do you work in the morning?” she asks after both the men are done yawning. She's tired, too. Satisfied and happy but exhausted.

 

“Nine. I've been opening all week.” And Porthos isn't thrilled about it. He used to be better at managing the schedule and it's frustrating. It's not worth ranting about it now, though. “But I'm gonna have some very pleasant dreams thanks to you two.”

 

He grins widely, the smile taking up so much of the screen Aramis wants to kiss it. One more week to go before he can actually ravish those lips for real. He'll wait but he also can't. Especially not after what they've just done.

 

“You should get some rest then,” he advises.

 

“Yeah....,” But Porthos doesn't want to say good bye to those faces. He can function all right without them in Paris, he's not _that_ dependent, yet seeing them, hearing them, it's reminded him of how lucky he is and how it sucks to be stuck in a different country.

 

“I miss you,” Anne says quietly and Aramis nods. So does Porthos.

 

“I called you, you hang up,” Aramis orders. “I love you.”

 

Porthos shakes his head, waits a couple more seconds then ends the call because they're not going to delay it forever.

 

He drops the phone on the bed, gropes for the light to turn it off and simply folds half of the duvet on top of him. The screen lights up like a beacon. A series of silly emojis on their conversation. Hearts and cats and kisses and Porthos laughs out loud. He feels like perhaps, perhaps, he could spend all night talking to Aramis instead of catching up on sleep and still feel refreshed in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [this](https://s-e-x-s-u-t-r-a.tumblr.com/post/160738691149) for inspiration. NSFW, needless to say.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay. Working/on holiday. Working on holiday. 
> 
> This chapter takes place the very night after the previous one. If you need a refresher why don't you go read chapter 5 again? I mean, it's porn, it shouldn't be too tedious ;)

The first time Anne is awoken that night, it's by a thud and a groan and the bedroom door creaks as it's pushed closed. Anne blinks in her drowsiness, finds that there's light shining under the door. Not enough to blind her or to wake her up properly. She holds a pillow close to her cheek, realizes she's alone in bed and through the door left slightly ajar, she can hear the faint echoes of Aramis' conversation.

 

“No, I don't think so.....

 

….Hey, not my fault. I didn't want to turn on the lights....

 

….Well, yeah and I'll have a bruise, _another_ one, that you won't be here to kiss better....

 

….True. No, my ankle's fine.....

 

….I hope it won't....

 

…..I _am_ whispering! I don't see how I could wake her up.”

 

Except he has yet Anne doesn't mind. She can't quite make sense of his conversation with Porthos -it has to be Porthos, it's too late at night to talk to anybody else on the phone. She could go back to sleep listening to Aramis. His happiness and the eagerness to keep Porthos close tonight even if it's through a phone. Anne sighs and clutches the duvet. She breathes it in.

 

Aramis' chuckle sounds incredibly loud in the quiet living room and he pauses for a second, alert to any sign that his midnight phonecall could disturb Anne.

 

“I wouldn't quite mind if you woke her up, though,” Porthos mentions. “I'm sure you'd find some way to entertain yourselves.”

 

“And you as well?”

 

“Sure, why not?”

 

Porthos hears Aramis' snicker while Aramis has no problem picturing the absent-minded shrug his boyfriend must have given. Aramis yawns, a bit tired yet not giving up on the chance to have his boyfriend available all to himself without interruption.

 

“Earlier....really was something.” Porthos wishes it would have made it easier to go to sleep and unfortunately, it's had the opposite effect. His mind won't stop conjuring those fabulous memories and it's a pain being away, not being able to cuddle with Aramis. His warm voice on the phone is barely enough to sustain him.

 

“It was.”

 

“I really wouldn't mind watching round two.”

 

Aramis laughs out loud at the casual tone, then he bites his lip and turns his back on the bedroom. His body shields the glow of the lamp by the couch as well.

 

“Are you really this starved?”

 

“Aren't you?”

 

“I miss you,” Aramis admits. “I know it's not your fault and all but damn, I wish you could be right here right now.”

 

“To talk?” Porthos taunts, then yawns and it covers some of Aramis' answer. He's going to have a very rough morning.

 

“....and speaking of other stuff, you know that app we were talking about earlier? Well, there was a very interesting question about what turned me on the most and....”

 

Anne remembers this one rather well, too. It was one of those embarassing questions which shouldn't be uttered in public especially since, to start with, she isn't even quite used to discussing sex so openly in private either. Enjoying it, this she has no trouble growing accustomed to. Listening to the men talking about it, she is liking it as well. Even more when it makes her imagination run wild with things she might one day witness. She likes watching and she's done feeling like it's wrong.

 

“Yep, that was more or less my answer...,” Aramis laughs some more and Anne smiles, for once wishing her eyelids weren't growing heavier again. She may be eavesdropping, she would give everything to hear the complete conversation.

 

“Why, what about the right to do just that to me when you get here? Wouldn't you like that?....

 

….Yeah, bring that, too. Isn't that the point of it?....

 

….If I don't know what's coming?....

 

….We probably should, yes....”

 

Follows a loud sigh. A frustrated one, one which reaches Anne's ears with no trouble.

 

Aramis hears a similar one all the way back in Paris. It's exciting to make plans, it's a lot less so when those won't be happening for another week. He knows he's whining when he says this.

 

“I know,” Porthos agrees, breathing in, closing his eyes. Having no clue how in hell he'll get some resting sleep after all of this. “But it gives me plenty of time to come up with new ideas.”

 

“Not helping, Porthos.”

 

He can't be upset because his ear fills with genuine laughter. Earthly and warm and he wants to bury his face in the crook of Porthos' neck and never let go.

 

“How about I pack the handcuffs with the blindfold, eh?”

 

Aramis shudders at the words. From anticipation.

 

“Not helping _either_. And as much as I would _adore_ this, I don't think you should take them.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Airport security and all? It's metal and I don't care I won't be there but it'll be embarassing for you and fucking annoying for me if you can't board the plane...”

 

“You're being dramatic.” Porthos rolls his eyes and chuckles.

 

“And what about if you're questioned because you're carrying handcuffs with no official reason?”

 

Anne grins to herself because that's so _them_ , to have toys like this and it makes her want to fast forward to next Saturday. Not only to see Porthos again but for everything that Aramis is mentioning. She would have never imagined she could be attracted to all of this. She has no clue if she would enjoy it herself but picturing the men using them, that makes her want to have very nice dreams for the time being.

 

* * *

 

It feels like an hour or more has passed when she's jostled back from sleep. But one glance at those glowing aggressive red numbers on the alarm clock on the other side of the bed tells her it's still two something in the morning. This time she doesn't even try to open her eyes. She kicks the duvet away, feeling hot even when only wearing a tank top and underwear. She wishes water would stop running because it's making her want to pee.

 

“Of course it was good if you followed all the steps in the recipe....

 

….You see? He knows nothing. It must have tasted fabulous. Not as delicious as my cooking but...”

 

Anne hears the giggles now that Aramis must have finished whatever he was doing with the kitchen sink. She also hears gulps in the otherwise silence.

 

“....I'm kidding, sweetie. You'll make it again when we're back....

 

….Of course. Just admit you miss me more for my food than for the rest....

 

…..You shut up.”

 

The conversation halts then and for so long that Anne begins to wonder if they're actually done. The empty glass clanks on the kitchen counter. She hears Aramis shuffling his feet. Then he resumes talking, farther away in the distance than he was before. The door to the balcony slides open.

 

“Did your phone die?”

 

“Almost,” Porthos strains with the battery cord. “It should be good now.”

 

“Good. So what else did Athos have to say apart from criticizing your dinner?”

 

“Not much.”

 

“Athos.”

 

“You got it. He's liking being back in Paris. He doesn't think he wants to go back to England anytime soon.”

 

“I'm not blaming him.”

 

“Also, he's had to hire a new cleaner and now he says it takes him forever to find brushes and stuff.”

 

“Why doesn't he clean his studio himself then?”

 

“Apparently that's what Ninon suggested and he said he does but sometimes he likes painting in the living room or the kitchen so of course the woman cleans those spaces and that's when they get lost. So Ninon told him to only paint in the studio if it's going to cause such drama and then his story stopped so I guess he didn't have any clever repartee. It's hopeless.” Porthos chuckles and Aramis leans against the balustrade. “I've missed his grumpy ass.”

 

Aramis laughs and coughs in answer.

 

“Are you...smoking?” Porthos demands, judging from the too many unneeded pauses there have been in the conversation in the past minutes.

 

“What if I am? Will you have to punish me for that, too?”

 

“Don't tempt me.”

 

“I'm not. I'm offering.”

 

Aramis blows the last of his smoke against his phone and his breathing sends parasite sounds all the way to Porthos' ear.

 

The sliding door made too much noise when he opened it so he leaves it like that for now. The light breeze follows him inside.

 

Anne had been dozing off again yet the rumble of Aramis' voice becoming closer and louder stops her from falling asleep again.

 

“Oh....Did he tell you what it would be about?....

 

….Right. Athos and his secrecy. I remember....

 

…..Really? Again?....

 

….Well, of course, sweetie, I make quite remarkable impressions on artists. Have you seen me?....

 

….All thanks to your spectacular coaching. Although, well....the ice creams are quite excellent around here....

 

….I'll share with you. And you can already say no to Athos for me. I'm flattered but...

 

…..No. Not if it's the same kind of modeling as last time....

 

…..Yes, I did but you didn't like it so I won't do it again.....

 

…...Because I love you and you're important, too....

 

….If you're so disappointed, I'll model for you....

 

….No, that's messy!” Aramis almost shrieks and Anne startles a little in the bed.

 

“You're not using paint on me,” he says a bit more quietly. He's heard movement in the bedroom. It's one thing if he deprives himself of sleep willingly but Anne didn't ask for it.

 

“What about edible art? I feel like I could be a great artist with those,” Porthos suggests. He has some ideas of what would look and taste good on his boyfriend. “And I....wouldn't use brushes.”

 

“....okay. As long as I can repay the favor.”

 

“Deal.” Porthos yawns again, not trying to stifle it.

 

“Tired?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Me too. But I've missed talking to you for...fuck.”

 

“Yeah, I just saw the time, too. Dammit, I'm knackered.”

 

“Goodnight for good, then?”

 

“I guess. Text me to let me know you're still alive tomorrow.”

 

“Not funny,” Aramis pouts. “I will. Love you.”

 

“Love you, 'mis.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next interruption, Anne doesn't mind it so much. The groping in the dark and the mattress sinking before Aramis can settle in bed again. His arm brushes hers, he groans and sighs. He grabs the duvet to cover himself and Anne feels it on her legs once more. It doesn't go past her knees and it's gone entirely as soon as Aramis has turned on his side, taking the duvet with him, turning his back on her.

 

The rest is blissful silence and deep sleep until the early morning.

 

* * *

 

 

When Anne wakes up for real, the bedroom is bathed in sunlight, the curtains are open, so is the window. She can hear the seagulls, the cars down in the street once in a while. She stretches and moans, curls her toes under the sheet, balls her fists, hands high up in the air.

 

Aramis waits until she's properly opened her eyes to make his presence known. Then he sits on the edge of the bed and hands her a mug of coffee once she's sitting up, blinking in the sun, brushing the loose hair away from her face. He smiles, sips from his own mug and Anne doesn't say much for a while, content in the quiet.

 

“ _Slept well?”_ he eventually asks.

 

She nods, crosses her legs. Smiles back. Enjoys how sweet her drink is, how Aramis would never forget these things. It's almost more sugar than coffee and it's delectable.

 

“ _Good morning,”_ she says after smiling happily and Aramis laughs.

 

“ _Good morning.”_

 

He leans forward, kisses her cheek and the crinkles the pillow has left on her skin. Right before he yawns so wide he can't quite cover his mouth. Anne cocks her head.

 

“ _Did you not get enough sleep?”_

 

“ _Maybe not.”_

 

“ _I suppose that's why long distance relationships never work in the end. Too much time on the phone at night and not enough time spent sleeping instead,”_ she teases.

 

She's trying to hide her grin, waiting for Aramis to understand what she's talking about. She also eyes the pastry in the plate on the bedside table. She hopes it's for her and her stomach rumbles. Aramis looks like a deet caught in headlights, blinking in confusion rapidly above the brim of his mug. He swallows thickly.

 

“ _Shit. I mean, shoot. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. You should have told me. I'd have hung up.”_

 

It would have sucked though. Less time with Porthos. Anne doesn't look or sound upset so that's at least a relief. It's just that with Mati sleeping in the living room for the past days his father hasn't had that many opportunities to call his boyfriend without disturbing anybody. And even when he thought he did, he failed.

 

“ _It's fine. At least you didn't keep me up all night. But hand this over and you'll be forgiven.”_

 

Anne gestures at the food that Aramis surrenders happily -it was hers to begin with. He gives her a kiss on the lips after and mouths out another apology. Anne's lips stretch into a smile against his and they only have to whisper when they draw apart. He stays so close to her there's no point trying to eat or drink for the time being.

 

“ _And don't worry,”_ Anne continues, _“I won't give away any of your dirty secrets.”_

 

It takes a few seconds for Aramis to remember what she might be referring to. He'd be embarassed if it had been anybody else overhearing _this_ conversation.

 

“ _I sure hope not,”_ he scoffs, dismissing her. _“Not if you ever want to do more than just hear about them.”_

 

“ _Are we doing blackmail now?”_

 

Aramis smirks, proving his threat empty. He lies down on the bed, precariously putting his mug on the floor. When he opens his eyes, Anne is looming above him, staring and nibbling on her food. Hesitating a bit.

 

“ _I've a question though,”_ she finally goes for it.

 

“ _About? Blindfolds? Handcuffs?”_ Aramis prompts, teasing, laughing when she rolls her eyes. When he knows she's confident enough with him in their new relationship to not be thrown off by such discussions.

 

Anne definitely hadn't caught any mention of blindfolds earlier in the night yet the men never cease to amaze her. She takes a sip of her coffee, licks the sugar off her sticky fingers.

 

“ _About neither. Not directly at least. It's about something that happened...a month or so ago.”_

 

Something which has been on her mind ever since yet she hasn't found the courage or even the appropriate moment to talk about it. Aramis looks up, curious and interested. He can see Anne's breasts rise and fall more quickly under her top with each sharper breath she takes.

 

“ _After Constance's hen party. When it was the three of us at my appartment and you...hmmm...you....you went down on me and...”_

 

“ _Yes?”_ Aramis props himself on his elbows, definitely liking how she's initiating conversation about sex. Even if she's still stammering and not quite comfortable while doing so.

 

“ _Well, I really liked that and...”_

 

Aramis clicks his tongue, which isn't helping yet he can't help it. It makes Anne smile lightly. He sits back up again, tries to meet her eye but that may be too much to ask for right now.

 

“ _....and then you stopped because you said you didn't want me to make you choke. Porthos also did, when I think of it. Stop me. And you looked liked you were going to have a panic attack.”_

 

“ _Ah yes. I remember now.”_

 

The hand pushing on his head, the feeling that he wasn't in charge anymore, that he couldn't breathe if he wanted to. How his lungs had seemed to shrink even though he had broken free in a matter of seconds. It's painful just thinking about it. It makes his stomach clench and heave. Aramis shakes his head to cast away the dark sensations.

 

“ _You apologized for it at the time, Anne. We're good. You didn't know.”_ What he also doesn't know is why she would bring painful memories back now and ruin a perfect morning.

 

“ _I know. And there are things I suppose I don't like either so of course you have yours as well but then you said that you liked....not being in control in bed so...”_

 

“ _I do. Pushing and trapping my head, and my nose and my mouth like that just isn't an option.”_

 

“ _I was wondering, that's all,”_ Anne shrugs, ready to let it go, aware that Aramis' curt tone clearly shows how he doesn't like being reminded of what happened.

 

“ _It has nothing to do with sex actually. I guess I'd like it if things had been different.”_

 

Aramis sighs, drags one hand over his face and rubs the closest part of Anne he can reach, her knee. He sinks back against the headboard. Porthos knows after all. It's not pleasing to force his mind to reminisce on this yet Anne does deserve to know and now he'll be thinking about it regardless of whether he tells her or not anyway.

 

“ _I love water,”_ he starts, surprising Anne with the abrupt change of subject. _“I wouldn't spend all these hours at the pool with Mati if I didn't. I like swimming but have you ever seen me put my head underwater?”_

 

Anne has to concede that no, she hasn't.

 

“ _Yesterday when we fell from the canoe?”_

 

“ _Yeah, that royally sucked.”_

 

He shudders at the thought, wishing once again he'd been more attentive and it hadn't happened. Dreadful seconds. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

 

“ _That was an accident though. You'll never see me go underwater of my own free will. I just don't. I can't stand the feeling of the water closing in and wanting to get inside of me. Choking me. Because of these idiots when I was a kid who thought it'd be_ _fun to push me underwater to see how long I could hold my breath. Pushing and not letting me go. I was what? Ten? It must have been some stupid contest and I guess we all did it and we all wanted to win,”_ he chuckles, the sound too dry, _“but I wasn't very good in the first place and it musn't have suit them. Maybe they were just trying to 'help'. I don't know. I don't remember. I remember....I remember kicking and_ _thrashing and it not doing anything. I remember the pressure on my head and how much my throat and my lungs and everything hurt after._ _When I was free. I still believe I could have died that day.”_

 

Aramis shudders once more, the horrible sensation running through his bones. He blames it on the breeze. Anne offers some comfort, her hand on his shoulder, rubbing. Then it's playing with his hair, brushing away the tangle and this time, Aramis can breathe. She watches as the arms clutching his chest loosen slowly and his shoulders sag as he tries to relax.

 

“ _I do remember one of those kids wanting to go out of Sofia. The kind of going out you do when you're ten. Mostly holding hands. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd traumatized that one for life. The way she took it out on him after they were stopped.”_

 

Big protective sisters who make it their life's work to embarrass him and yet have always been there to help whenever he truly needed it. Anne smiles at this. Only because Aramis does.

 

“ _So yeah. It's taken me long enough to go back into the water as it is. Mom had to write all these discharges in school so I wouldn't have to go to P.E when we did swimming. The teacher wasn't a big fan of me. With that and all the_ _school days I was starting to miss because of fencing. But I like water again now. Only if I'm in charge though. Shower is fine coz it's up to_ _me to step away from the water. Diving's out of the question. Mati will need an actual instructor for that. And somehow along the way it's become the same for sex, it seems. The being afraid I'll run out of air,”_ he shrugs again. _“It's not your fault and it happened with others. With Porthos even. I need to be in control for this. As for the rest, I'll be happy to do whatever you want me to.”_

 

Aramis winks, which isn't enough to dissipate the horrific events he's just shared so Anne reaches forward to hug him. So tightly and fiercely that he can't help smirking on her shoulder. What a terrible thing to do to someone you consider a friend and Anne hopes with everything she has that her son will never turn out like this.

 

“ _It was a long time ago, Anne. I survived.”_

 

“ _Hush.”_

 

One word and Aramis gives in. It's soft in her arms and her skin smells good. Like coffee and waking up and sweat but he likes that and he breathes in and presses more against her. He feels the small kisses on top of his head and he likes those as well.

 

“ _Thank you for telling me. I was afraid it was something I'd done,”_ she finally confesses, relieved that she was wrong, saddened that the truth is so terrible.

 

This time, it's Aramis who hugs her tighter. He would have never believed there could still be so much to build in their relationship. So much they obviously don't know about each other yet.

 

“ _It has nothing to do with you in particular. I didn't think it would bother you so much. You should have asked me earlier. And for the record, and I'll say this again and again until you accept it, you_ are _very good in bed. For real.”_ For emphasis, he tackles her on the bed, eager to cast away bleak thoughts and Anne lets out a surprised squeak. _“There's no doing anything wrong, Anne. There's just getting to know each other and we've been doing great on that front lately.”_

 

It's a whisper along her cheek, his nose dragging on the skin up to her ear and Anne sighs under him, her arms still around his neck. It's a contented noise that Aramis echoes as he lets her keep on petting his hair, his head on her chest.

 

“ _I'm glad you told me. Thank you,”_ Anne says again more quietly after minutes of silence.

 

“ _Sure.”_ Aramis has to close his eyes at the smooth fingers brushing locks of hair on his forehead.

 

“ _Who would have thought that after so long there were still things I didn't know about you?”_

 

“ _There are things I only tell to people I want to build an actual life with. No offense.”_ Aramis has to kiss the fabric of her tank top, his lips half landing on her collarbone when he thinks he has to soothe the sting of his words.

 

“ _None taken. I'm liking it. Actually building something with you and not having our entire relationship revolve around our son.”_

 

Aramis kisses her skin again, for the sake of it. Because he wants to and also because he can.

 

“ _I just hope that next time I won't get too....carried away,”_ she hazards and Aramis raises his head before he grins and pushes himself up to be at eye level.

 

“ _It means I'm talented.”_

 

Anne tries to shove his shoulder in response to his cheekiness, but fails.

 

“ _And that's also why being three if great. Coz Porthos will find a way to keep your hands busy.”_

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe they're still on holiday when I've had to go back to work? So unfair.

Mati insisted on the sign. Because obviously, after two weeks apart, Porthos wouldn't be able to recognize Aramis at the airport without one. So his father feels a little silly, waiting by himself with the cardboard and the glittering letters. Because of course, his son isn't here with him to proudly present his crafty creation. He's already in Madrid with his grandparents and his mother. So the sign was also a way to make him less disappointed when he realized he wouldn't be able to welcome Porthos as he stepped out of his plane.

 

Sure thing, the colourful piece of paper is a beacon guiding Porthos straight to Aramis. Zigzaguing among the crowd, his bag slung over his shoulder and smiling. Smiling so brightly that Aramis feels like melting. Two weeks is definitely too long. Never again.

 

He hugs Porthos so tightly, so completely that he barely registers the bag and the sign discarded on the floor. Aramis' arms sneak around his boyfriend's waist and he squeezes, closes his eyes and Porthos' hands on his shoulders bring him flush against his chest. Aramis hears the loud, steady breathing in his ear. It's louder than the conversations around them. Louder than the announcements made on speaker. Closer and fleshier.

 

Aramis smiles at the long kiss on his cheek. The feel of Porthos' beard and he rubs his nose in his boyfriend's neck. Really not wanting to let go for now.

 

“Did you make that yourself?” Porthos teases, crouching to retrieve the sign. He smoothes it with one hand, Aramis' arm still attached to his waist, clutching his hip. “Quite the artist you are.”

 

“Somehow, even if we'd explained dozens of times that he wouldn't be there when you'd arrive, there still was a tantrum about it. Hence this.”

 

“It's....bright. I'm keeping it.”

 

“You don't have to.” Even though Mati would probably have a meltdown if they were to throw it away. Or perhaps he wouldn't even remember it. Not likely though.

 

“I know.” Porthos nonetheless does and lets Aramis gather his bag for him. “What's that on your head?”

 

Aramis beams up at him, delighted that it's been noticed.

 

“It's a hat. I wear a hat now when it's hot. Because it _is_ hot here. You'll see.”

 

“I am.” Porthos winks.

 

Aramis sticks his chin out, proud and Porthos laughs. A earthy sound which fades when he brushes his lips with his boyfriend's.

 

“You're pretty, cupcake.”

 

Aramis chases after the lips for other kisses, grinning. Not quite having forgotten what it felt like to kiss his boyfriend. He could never. But being reminded of the sensation of how great it is and how it's the only thing he wants to do today. It's heaven.

 

“It's good to be here,” Porthos decides, grabbing Aramis' hand and letting him lead the way out of the airport. He can feel it in his bones already. That he's going to enjoy the few days with his boyfriend like nothing else mattered. Like Paris didn't exist anymore.

 

“It's good to have you back.” Aramis squeezes the strong fingers, rubs the back of Porthos' hand and wouldn't let go for the world. “My mom has been pestering me for days to be sure you'd have your favorite food as soon as you'd arrive. Your favorite everything. You'll be treated like a king, because, well, you were stuck at work while we were here and it was unfair so yes.”

 

“I'm not complaining.”

 

There's more sun blinding him that there ever was in Paris for the last few days and everything screams vacation to him. The couple of days by themselves and the rest with Aramis' family. Porthos is really looking forward to having no schedule and to relax. Just relax.

 

“Neither am I. She even said she'd change the linens while we were away so you could have clean, fresh sheets to sleep in. So _I_ don't have to do this.”

 

“Nice. Was it as you expected?” he hazards. “Telling your parents about us and Anne?”

 

He's received only a text to inform him that Aramis had talked to them, as well as his sister, and there seemed to have been no drama. So Porthos has assumed it went well. Not that he's overly worried.

 

“Yup. Well, Sofia had hinted at it so my mom wasn't interested in anything but finding out. My dad said to be careful.” Aramis rolls his eyes, which he had to stop himself from doing when his father actually told him that. “My mom said it was odd but if we made it work it was all right. Then she asked if it meant we were all staying in the same room.”

 

Then Aramis shudders because well, he's 30 and it was his _mom_ and no. Porthos sniggers, crowds his boyfriend in the empty elevator and kisses him until the unhappy thought has left his mind.

 

“But mostly, I think they were more happy for Anne than for me. Since, you know, I have you already.”

 

“Your parents are like, the coolest parents I've ever met.”

 

“Right.” That's because Porthos didn't know them as a teenager. But Aramis supposes for some things, yes, his parents are quite awesome. Open-minded and tolerant? Definitely.

 

“I've missed you,” he blurts out, their lips still touching and Porthos' only answer is another kiss, his tongue smooth in his boyfriend's mouth. Aramis grips the collar of his tee-shirt and Porthos' hands on his hips feel nice. Natural.

 

They're forced apart when the elevator dings and they've reached the floor where Aramis has parked his car.

 

“I've missed you, too. I haven't missed those tantrums you were talking about and I did like the silence in the evening at first. Coz you know, no kid. But also no one to talk to at all and I don't know if I'm getting too old or what but....”

 

“Never. You're perfect.”

 

“Thanks, 'mis. But, yeah. I felt so worn out at night it took me forever to find the energy to go out.”

 

“As long as you had fun when you did.”

 

“Yeah but coming back to an empty appartment? That sucked.”

 

And he can't believe he could feel like this. So used to Aramis. So used to what they have together. Happy with his friends yet missing something anyway. Especially as life in the summer was going more slowly than it usually would.

 

“Well, you're here now, sweetie and I'll make up for it. So will Anne. And...”

 

“Yeah, where _is_ Anne?”

 

He thought the plan had been that they would both come to welcome him. Then he assumed maybe she was waiting by the car since she's Anne and she lets them have their space sometimes. But she obviously isn't there given that they are and the car is empty.

 

“Not here,” Aramis states, which isn't helpful because that's painfully obvious. “She should be here tonight.”

 

“What happened?” Why did nobody tell him? Why did Aramis wait so long to tell him? It can't be something dramatic or else he would have.

 

“You know she drove Mati to Madrid yesterday, since her father couldn't and I don't really know the specifics but long story short, her car wouldn't start and as far as I know, she's still stuck over there.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Porthos doesn't try to hide his disappointment at the news. He's overjoyed to have Aramis, to be able to actually touch him, to have him handle his luggage and be his personal chauffeur as he navigates the streets to their hotel. But he was also looking forward to Anne. He's missed Anne. Not like he's missed Aramis since he isn't used to having her around every evening and every morning. He's missed hanging out with her. He's missed her.

 

“Yes. She thought she'd be back by now and it sucks because she wasn't particularly happy to have to stay with her parents since they're being jerks to her. She wasn't even supposed to go all the way to Madrid. Her father hurt his foot or whatever and couldn't drive. Or something like that. I won't say they did it on purpose but....anyway. She didn't want me to miss you either. So. Tonight. Hopefully.”

 

“Okay,” Porthos says quietly and he frowns behind his sunglasses.

 

“I think she messaged you though. To let you know.”

 

“Did she? Maybe.”

 

He hasn't turned his phone on yet. By the time it has understood it's abroad and it has connected to a local network, Aramis has had time to point out various attractions they've passed on the road. Focused on his phone, Porthos has barely noticed them. Or even heard Aramis mention them.

 

There is indeed a very long text from Anne from when he was on the plane. Saying more or less what Aramis just did. And it's nobody's fault. Not really. Yet Porthos can't help that sinking feeling in his guts that what should have been perfect isn't and there are pieces missing from the great vacation he had in mind. So right now, not even the blue, cloudless sky and the gorgeous sun can do anything for him.

 

The hotel is nice, quite glamorous, certainly well-located as they can see the beach from their room. It's gigantic, too, with so much space and a balcony and Aramis booked well. For one night, they could clearly afford it. The flowers and the impression of freshness and light as soon as they've stepped inside and closed the door.

 

Porthos drops his bag by Aramis' and sits heavily on the bed, testing its fluffiness. Not particularly tired from the flight and it's not even noon so they have the whole day ahead of them. He still falls back on the bed, the mattress and soft comforter great soothing pillows for the back of his neck. He closes his eyes.

 

Aramis' voice comes from far away, from the glass doors he's opened to check out the balcony. Already planning the breakfast they could take there in the morning.

 

“Tired?” he asks.

 

“Not really.”

 

“Too sunny for you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Missing Paris?”

 

Porthos' answer is only a snort this time. He opens one eye, finds Aramis closer to the edge of the bed, watching him. Porthos closes his eyes again, only to blink at the next unexpected, abrupt question.

 

“Then what's your problem?”

 

“My problem? I don't have a problem.”

 

“Right. You're just _so_ happy to see me you haven't spoken to me since we've left the airport. That makes me feel very well. Really....wanted.”

 

Porthos sits back up, massages the nape of his neck. He can see Aramis is obviously upset although he's clueless as to why. Porthos wasn't even aware he'd neglected the conversation.

 

“You are, 'mis. I'm sorry I wasn't attentive. I love being here with you. I...just....expected Anne to be there, too.”

 

“She'll be tonight. I told you so.”

 

“You think she'll be.”

 

“It won't take ages to fix that car. She'll take another if she needs to.”

 

“I hope.”

 

“Are you going to spend the entire day sulking because of that?” Aramis crosses his arms on his chest, his words bitter.

 

“I'm not sulking. Come on, cupca...”

 

“Don't cupcake me. Sulking, ignoring me, whatever. I've been waiting for this for two weeks and now...”

 

“Because I haven't? I'm the one who was away while you were all together. I'm happy to finally be here with you,” Porthos repeats, less calmly this time. “I just wish Anne would be as well. You're not the only one I've missed.”

 

“It feels like you didn't.”

 

“Seriously? Seriously, Aramis? Are you....” He shakes his head, baffled. Aramis is still scrutinizing him, judging. Putting distance where there shouldn't be any. “I have _every_ right to miss more than you, you know.”

 

“And that gives you the right to not enjoy my company?”

 

“Wow. Excuse me for having feelings. Feelings for people who aren't you,” Porthos says curtly, not understanding his boyfriend in the least. It sounds a lot harsher than he intended yet Aramis asked for it.

 

“I never said you couldn't. Just not at my expense.”

 

“So suddenly everything should revolved around _you_?”

 

“When we're together? Hmmm, yes, I guess.”

 

“You've had Anne for two weeks. You didn't have time to miss her!”

 

“I've had time to miss _you_!”

 

“And I you! Dammit, Aramis. Do you think I can turn off feelings like this? You knew she wouldn't be here, I just learned about it. It doesn't lessen my feelings for _you_! Where is all of that fucking coming from?”

 

Porthos realizes he's raised his voice to the point of shouting. So has Aramis who is now much closer, seething, not backing down. Fighting wasn't part of his plan. It's not the welcome he wanted to give Porthos. It's simply that it hurt so bad, so deeply to see that from the very moment he said it was only the two of them for now, Porthos' behavior changed. Maybe it wasn't a conscious and deliberate change. Aramis hasn't come here to watch his boyfriend brood while they wait for Anne, though. Porthos shouldn't _need_ Anne to have fun. Not when he has Aramis with him.

 

He's shaking a bit, clearly upset, Porthos invading his personal space. Such dark eyes that Aramis would take a step back except that the wall is right there so that's not an option. Besides, it won't be said that he's afraid. Not when he is in his right.

 

“I love you, Aramis and I've missed you and I'm so, so glad I'm with you again.”

 

“And I love you, too, yet you could show it a little more.”

 

“Because I'm not? Maybe I've ignored you earlier, I'll give you that. But there are three of us in this relationship.”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Jesus, will you listen to me and stop being jealous?” Porthos snaps, balling his fists by his side.

 

“I'm not jealous!” Aramis snarls back and Porthos scoffs.

 

He's still incredibly upset that his boyfriend is making such a scene and at the same time he's recognizing emotions he's had in the past.

 

“I am not,” Aramis repeats for emphasis, hammering his words. “I'm aware you love her, too. If I was jealous, we wouldn't be dating her.”

 

“All right. You're not,” Porthos drops it, trying to remember in his anger that perhaps Aramis actually _is_ and that's a problem they'll have to deal with later. “So what prevents you from being supportive and not ruin the time we have together? Because let me tell you, I didn't come all this way for this.” He gestures between the two of them.

 

“Neither did I,” Aramis mutters. “It's just...” He shrugs and it's so ridiculous, so stupid and yet it makes his heart ache. “It feels like you're taking me for granted. Kissing me and then forgetting about me.”

 

It's another mumble, so far from shouts that Porthos calms down in spite of the hammering in his chest and the blood pulsing against his temples.

 

“What? Hey, cupcake, I'd never.” This time he isn't stopped. “I know what we have, just the two of us and what we did to get there. Me missing Anne doesn't mean I'm not glad you're right here with me. I'm very much so. I'd never forget you.”

 

Very reluctantly, Aramis lets Porthos hug him. He's still angry, definitely _not_ jealous but now Porthos is paying attention to him, physically and emotionally and that's all he wanted.

 

“Would I do this if I wanted to give you the cold shoulder?” Porthos says quietly, forcing Aramis to let his arms fall by his sides so they can hold hands.

 

Aramis feels all the strength Porthos puts in the gesture. Like an anchor keeping them together. He lets Porthos kiss him. Softly at first and then as deeply as he did in the airport elevator. Without interruption this time.

 

“I've missed this and I've missed you like I didn't imagine I could miss anyone, 'mis, and perhaps I should just sell the damn gym so in the future I'm free to follow you on holiday anywhere.”

 

“Don't be silly,” Aramis can't help the chuckle escaping him.

 

“We'll see.” Aramis' palms are damp against his but his lips are the same as they've always been and it's silent in the room for now. For these few minutes when they're trying to keep everything in control. “Are we done?” Porthos dares asks after a while. “Fighting? I guess I wasn't really listening to you before. I didn't mean to upset you.” He absolutely didn't and he can also admit when he's done something wrong, when he's hurt Aramis without meaning to.

 

Porthos resents that Aramis won't properly apologize for starting this but he has been insecure ever since the first day Anne kissed Porthos and perhaps that's an issue that's not been resolved yet. Regardless of how hard Aramis is trying to play it cool.

 

“I'm listening now,” he goes on. “I'm here. And just because sometimes, I don't focus all my thoughts and energy on you doesn't mean you don't matter.”

 

“I know that,” Aramis accepts grudgingly.

 

“It's not a competition. I didn't resent you for being with Anne and not me all this time.”

 

“I know.”

 

And then, out of nowhere, it's Aramis who's crushing Porthos in his arms, grabbing whatever clothing or hair he can to stay close. Making Porthos stumble before he can hold on to his boyfriend's waist.

 

Porthos has been by himself for so long, it's not fair to have to fight and shout in the first hours after their reunion. Aramis wishes he could have prevented this.

 

“I'm not jealous,” he repeats, almost as a chant.

 

“It's all right if you are, 'mis. Or insecure. Whatever you want to call it. I used to be,too. I got better but you, now....Sometimes I do wonder how you actually feel when I'm with Anne. You say it's fine whenever we talk but....”

 

Aramis shrugs again, biting his lip and for sole answer, because it's too confusing and he didn't expect to be so angry at Porthos for seemingly no reason, he kisses Porthos full on the lips. Teeth clang, closing on Porthos' bottom lip. Such ferocity that Porthos, taken aback, fails to keep his balance and he nearly ends on the floor. His wrist stings after he's caught himself on the edge of the bed. Aramis' weight on his chest forces the breath out of him.

 

“I....love you, Porthos. And I know we're safe. Gosh I've been saying so to Anne for days. You and I, we're good. Solid.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And it's stupid because I trust you. I trust her. I....we're not going to hurt one another.”

 

“Not if I can help it. And you're not stupid. Remember how I didn't like people ogling those naked pictures of you? Why you don't want to do it again? I don't think I'd like it if it had to happen again.”

 

He's positive he wouldn't. Aramis' love for him has never wavered. Not once. It's a secure thing. It doesn't change the fact that Aramis' naked body isn't something he'd be willing to share with the world ever again.

 

“But being jealous of guys talking to you? I'm not anymore.”

 

“I'm not....,” Aramis starts.

 

“I heard you. I love you. Even when my mind isn't a hundred per cent with you. Let me find the time to learn how to compartmentalize. Like you did with Mati at first. Can you try to do that? I wasn't ignoring you on purpose.”

 

“I hoped so.” Aramis exhales sharply. A shuddering breath and he heaves himself off Porthos to lie next to him.

 

Their faces so close their noses bump and so do their foreheads and they hiss at the same time. Hit their respective hands when they reach to rub their skin and Aramis giggles. The dark shadows in his heart dissipating quietly. Steadily.

 

“You're my more than boyfriend,” he says thoughtfully. “And I just..didn't want to feel like an outsider all day long.”

 

Porthos would roll his eyes but that's serious business.

 

“Aramis, I swear. Whatever happens, you will _never_ be an outsider. You're much an insider.”

 

This time the whole process goes more smoothly. It's simple, deep kissing and no physical pain involved. Porthos' fingers are hot on Aramis' lower back, sneaking under his tee-shirt and finding skin they've missed. Aramis' back arches and presses closer and he relishes in the simple caresses. He's no idea how long it lasts, how long Porthos' touches take to relax him and to dissipate this foolish, ridiculous thought that his boyfriend would have rather been with Anne than with him today.

 

So yes, maybe Aramis _is_ insecure.

 

Perhaps he doesn't want to lose what he's fought for. Perhaps he should trust his people more and he believed he did. And he hates himself for doubting them, for being insecure. He shouldn't have these trust issues. In the last months, they've giving him no reason for him to doubt them. They've gone on dates without him and he's been fine. Porthos has had sex with Anne and Aramis has been fine with it. Why would being apart for two weeks change all of this?

 

Aramis is very well aware he can't control Porthos' feelings, how ever they may unnerve him. He's trying and they're talking. Even though it'd be better to do so calmly without having to shout. Aramis doesn't want to fight. He only wants those sweet, meaningful, heated kisses.

 

The ones Porthos is showering him with. Also because Aramis has trapped his boyfriend's head, clutching the nape of his neck. Not that Porthos minds.

 

“Kissing you is like....being home away from home.”

 

“I'm supposed to be the cheesy one,” Aramis remarks, giggling. Sighing. “But yes. It does feel better to have you here. Don't stop. And you know? When Anne said she couldn't make it this morning, I wasn't upset. I was just grateful.”

 

“What for?”

 

“All the alone time we were getting, you and I.”

 

Porthos certainly hadn't thought about _that_.

 

“To do what?”

 

“This, among other things.”

 

“That's more like yourself.”

 

Porthos smiles kindly yet playfully, catching Aramis' relieved laughter with his mouth and drowning it with his tongue. The prospect of more kisses would definitely be enough to overcome the desire to see Anne more quickly. Porthos still wishes she hadn't had her problems but if there has to be a silver lining and if it helps him re-connect with his boyfriend, then kisses it is.

 

“What other things?” he taunts.

 

“That would rather depend on what you managed to pack, sweetie.”

 

Unashamed, Aramis sneaks his hand down between them and undoes the top button of his jeans. And the second one. Porthos throw his head back, grinning. Even if anger and having missed him turn to lust, that doesn't mean he wishes to have more of both in the future.

 

“Still thinking about this conversation?” His beard rubs against Aramis' cheek.

 

“As if you weren't.” Porthos would be lying if he said he wasn't indeed. “But I've been an ass to you so maybe....”

 

Finally, Porthos thinks. It's not quite an apology but he's getting there. And he won't press for more. On holiday, there should be no fighting whatsoever and Porthos won't be the one feeding this particular one. Aramis will come around eventually. He knows him well enough to know that's what will happen.

 

“So perhaps,” Porthos finishes for his boyfriend, “you could make it up to me. See what I've brought for you.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

There's eagerness pouring in that first kiss. Aramis flushed to Porthos' side, crowding and his hands fisting the fabric of Porthos' tee-shirt. Grabbing at his hair, desperate to be so much closer that there's no more space between them. Not even enough for a breath of air. They're gasping in each other's mouths. Aramis muffles a gasp at the strong teeth biting on his lip and he comes back for more, hooking his leg with Porthos', pushing and pulling until somehow Porthos gathers him in his arms. The embrace so strong it would make bones crack.

 

But it's Aramis and Porthos can never be close enough. Too many lonely nights on his mind that he needs to make up for. Too many hours spent without that warmth, that scent. Everything which makes Aramis, which made Porthos miss him so tremendously that how in the world could be even think to take him for granted? How could he hit that low point where it wouldn't make a difference if Aramis was here with him or not?

 

Porthos could never grow tired of him, of everything that he is and that he adores to heights he could never begin to describe. The desperation in Aramis' open kisses, the strength of his tongue in Porthos' mouth and the hasty fumbling with Porthos' pants, Porthos realizes all too well why it's here in the first place. Why right now, in this hotel room, Aramis would want to make a point. A point which shouldn't have to be made in the first place.

 

Porthos curses internally, laps at Aramis' tongue, pulls on his lip a little, only to have Aramis gasp ever so softly. Short, rapid breaths which catch at Porthos' mouth leaving wet kisses down his jaw and his neck. Along the collar of his tee-shirt as he itches the clothing higher on Aramis' stomach to reveal and graze all that skin. Porthos feels the muscles contract at his touch, how hard they are under the pads of his fingers.

 

They don't need words for Aramis to let go of Porthos. To stretch his arms far above his head and then Porthos throws the tee-shirt so far away it doesn't matter anymore. He reaches up before Aramis can do anything, makes him lie down on the bed completely. Half-naked, his jeans totally unbuttoned, his boxers peering just above the waistline. Riding low enough to give Porthos a peek of his boyfriend's tanline.

 

That Porthos covers with his own body. Pressing down, his mouth back on his boyfriend's and Aramis' body straining to touch as much of Porthos' as he can. His leg comes up again to curl around Porthos' thigh, to trap him there even though Porthos would find nothing to complain about the situation. It's all about Aramis and him. Nothing else in the world matters anymore. Nothing but all the gorgeous, sexy body lying on the bed for him and for him alone.

 

In the silence and the large room, Porthos can just feel all the desire and the love -and the lust- and he's not certain how much radiates from him or from Aramis. It's all mixing up. It's making his heart beat faster. It's making Aramis' chest heave more shallowly. There's a flush rising from his cheeks. His hair is in his eyes and Porthos pushes some stray locks away.

 

His fingers keep creeping up from there, gliding on the inside of Aramis' forearm. Grazing his wrist, padding in his palm until Porthos' strong fingers thread with Aramis'. Heavily and firmly and Aramis is not sure if he sighs or moans but that's irrelevant. That's everything he's been looking forward to. Yearning for. Porthos with him, for himself. Nobody and nothing else to worry about or demanding their attention. After so long it feels like he's forgotten what it was like to be with his boyfriend.

 

Aramis does moan, bucking his hips when Porthos' hand trails along the hem of his underwear, teasing. The touches too short and evasive to satisfy him and yet it makes him want more. Porthos smirks against wet lips, can't understand how he made it through without his writhing, aroused boyfriend for so long and he intends to make up for it. The absence and the fight and for now, who cares who was right or wrong?

 

His hand cups the bulge in Aramis' jeans and he squeezes, swallowing a grunt. Groaning as well when Aramis' foot on the curve of his ass forces Porthos down on him and he relishes in the friction it creates between their crotches.

 

Withdrawing his hand, using it to keep Aramis from squirming too much, securing both his arms far above his head, Porthos doesn't hold his weight back as he grinds down on his boyfriend. Jeans and fabric and the roughness of metallic buttons and how he struggles in the midst of everything to unzip his own trousers. Especially as Aramis has hooked both his legs around Porthos, effectively pushing him down as hard as he can, chasing after his mouth, lips glistening wet.

 

Aramis goes with the flow when Porthos pulls him up, rolls them over and Aramis lands back on his crotch so strongly it makes Porthos go blind with pleasure for a few seconds. He hardly has time to recover that Aramis is already lashing out at his neck, sucking at the skin, making delighted little noises. He rolls his hips on top of Porthos, feels the tingle spread under his skin as Porthos' sweaty hands grab at his hips hard enough to leave marks. Nails dig in Aramis' skin, forcing him to keep on moving. He can feel the heat of Porthos' erection even through their mutual clothing and it's making him hungrier than he's been in days.

 

Porthos hisses at the hot kisses on his bare chest after he's struggled to get rid of his tee-shirt, Aramis definitely not helping. Too focused on the toned stomach, on the enticing skin and how he's missed feeling it against his beard. How he's missed tasting all of Porthos with his tongue. Flat on his chest, licking a path down his neck to his belly button to suckle there. To trail along the hard abs, all the while looking up through heavy eyelids.

 

Porthos dips his hand in Aramis' jeans. Past his boxers to feel hot skin against his palm. He cups Aramis' ass, hears the quick gasps and he tangles his other hand in his boyfriend's hair. Makes him jerk his head up to share a smothering kiss.

 

“Foreplay is overrated......today,” Porthos decides, a rasp against Aramis' lips.

 

There's no complaint to be had. Aramis' heart is beating so hard he can hardly catch his breath to think straight. His brain is starting to lack oxygen and all he can focus on is the pressure of Porthos' fingers everywhere on him. The ghost of his caresses everywhere he isn't being touched right now. The man of his life lying beneath him, the cock hidden in his clothes that Aramis is desperate to get his hands and his mouth and everything on. The desperate need to be with Porthos. Naked. How it's more important now than it would have been if the past hour had turned out to be a normal, ordinary reunion.

 

How important it feels now to love and be loved. To focus on one another and remember how great they are together. Them and nothing else. How what's behind the closed doors of the hotel room can never cease to exist but can be overlooked for some time. How they must be there for each other no matter what and how lucky they are indeed to have what they have. How it must be cherished.

 

“My bag,” Porthos says in between kisses and Aramis relinquishes his hold on his boyfriend, turning to try to reach it and he almost falls off the bed in the process.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, kicking his jeans off, tripping on them, sliding off the silky bedsheets in his haste. “For fuck's sake. Next time I'll put on a special request for normal sheets.”

 

Porthos has to chuckle at his boyfriend's struggle. But he helps nonetheless, gathering the offensive linens, making a large ball of them by the side of the bed. He's also completely naked by the time Aramis has gone through the contents of his bag.

 

Aramis' mouth feels dry when he stands up again, admiring the fine new view on display. Locking eyes with Porthos, hungry and impatient to be sated. Aramis licks his lips, racks his eyes up and down, taking in everything and even under this very intense gaze, it's a bit chilly in the room all of a sudden without a warm body pressed against Porthos'.

 

He reclines on the bed, quite aware he's putting on a show and when his gaze leaves Aramis' face it's only to lock on the clear and obvious outline of his boyfriend's erection in those bright red boxers. A fantastic beacon even in the sun-bathed room.

 

Aramis gives up on looking more thoroughly through what Porthos packed, deciding they'll have all the time to take it slow and play later on. For now, he only wants -and needs- to be naked in bed with his boyfriend. Nothing else. To feel what it invariably feels like when they're together.

 

So he stalks to the bed, comes to a stop between Porthos' spread legs and he leans forward until their mouths touch.

 

“That wasn't funny,” he pouts, a bit breathless.

 

“It was. A little bit. You're very.....coordinated.”

 

Aramis can't help but crack a smile. Their noses touch and he tosses the lube on the bed, grabs fistfuls of Porthos' hair so he doesn't dare go anywhere else before he tumbles on top of him.

 

Very slowly, Porthos' fingers creep down to his boyfriend's lower back. Leaving no inch of skin untouched and it makes Aramis restless. This thorough worship and he grunts around Porthos' tongue when Porthos' thumbs hook with his underwear. Aramis raises his hips, helping pull them out of the way entirely and he ends up flat on his back once he's naked, Porthos looming above him, equally hungry and his hand flat on Aramis' lower stomach.

 

It shifts down, the pads of his fingers on Aramis' inner thigh. Trailing along the hard length of his cock seconds later and Aramis curses. And some more comes when Porthos' hand closes on his dick completely and pulls on it. Porthos' kisses muffle more _fucks_ and the swearing only entices him further. It's been too long since he's been this close to his boyfriend and in their haste he still wants to kiss him everywhere at once. To make up for lost time. All in these few minutes just for them. As if the universe was going to collapse on them anytime soon. Except it doesn't. It won't. Aramis is here with him, for real. Just them for a glorious time.

 

Porthos licks his lips, licks Aramis' nipples and smirks at the surprised moan he receives in return. The arch of his boyfriend's back and the pulsing flesh of his cock in his grip. Aramis spreads his legs more and shudders at the lush lips on his stomach. Such a velvet feeling and Porthos' ragged breathing on his skin.

 

“I thought you'd had enough foreplay,” he struggles to say, his breath catching and he gulps at Porthos' nose nuzzling his groin. The anticipation and sexiness dripping from his tongue when he replies.

 

“It's not foreplay if I actually make you come. Is it?”

 

He doesn't wait for a proper response, taking a deep, meaningful breath and dropping a soft kiss on Aramis' cock. More follow. Tiny touches, more like feathers and it's such a delicious torture that Aramis decides he can't quite speak anymore.

 

Porthos' mouth is hot around him. Wet and his tongue swirling around his cock is fast and rather dedicated. Aramis grips Porthos' shoulder, so hard he'll probably leave scratches but he can't help it. Porthos is overpowering literally everything and anything and it ignites this burning sensation in Aramis' veins. In his very bones. It's both torture and pleasure.

 

Porthos' tongue sucks loudly on the cockhead, swirls around it before he swallows as much as he can and his lips move to Aramis' balls. The tip of his tongue on them. Quick, short lapping which are driving Aramis insane. If this is payback for shouting earlier, it feels so wonderful that perhaps they should argue and make up by having sex more often. Of perhaps skip the fighting and move directly to the hot sex. Yes. That.

 

“Porthos....,” he moans, hitting the mattress with the flat of his hand.

 

Porthos looks up at his name, never stopping, his hand gliding up his boyfriend's chest to play with his nipples.

 

“Yes, cupcake?”

 

But whatever else Aramis meant to say, it gets lost in his throat. His chest rumbles with a loud grunt and Porthos dives against his crotch again. He wants to be reacquainted with everything Aramis. To remain as close to him as possible and they'll play later. That's not the number one priority right now.

 

Before he has time to protest or to realize that Porthos has moved on from his blowjob, Aramis' lips are once again crushed against his boyfriend's. There's frenzy in this kiss, the sounds of Porthos fumbling with the lube the only background noises, ones Aramis is absolutely always willing to help with. It hasn't been so long and yet it feels like it has because the second he feels Porthos' fingers on his ass, the coldness and everything that it leads to, Aramis almost chokes on his tongue with pleasure.

 

He throws his head back, eyes closed, mouth open and he hangs on to Porthos' shoulder as if it were the only anchor keeping him from drowning and losing himself in all the pleasure surrounding him. Aramis lives for Porthos' careful and steady fingers inside of him. And his face is such an open book of pure ecstasy that Porthos is transfixed by it. That wonderful man giving himself to him, letting him do whatever he wants and never objecting to anything. Porthos' cock aches to be inside of Aramis' ass as well.

 

He buries his face in the crook of Aramis' neck, mouthing at the soft skin, kissing and sucking on the shuddering pulse point. Porthos' heart is hammering, reverberating on Aramis' chest, making his skin tingle and his legs jerk whenever Porthos crooks his fingers inside of him. Whenever he makes him feel like his blood is boiling, turning his lower stomach to mush. It's such a spectacular pain without even turning to an actual painful one that Aramis can't think about anything else.

 

Perhaps Porthos tells him, warns him but if he does, there's such a buzz in Aramis' ears that he wouldn't hear it. He even feels limps when Porthos manhandles him a little and makes him flip over on the bed. The sheet is warm against his cheek and Porthos' hand traveling down his back along his spine is almost ticklish. In a good way. Aramis sighs.

 

“That's mine,” Porthos all but growls in Aramis' ear before he gives his boyfriend's ass a not so gentle slap which makes Aramis shiver with anticipation. “It's mine and there's not a day which passes when I don't want it. Do you hear me?”

 

He grits his teeth, quite aware that his cock pressing against Aramis' ass might make it impossible to answer properly. He clutches Aramis' hips, catching glimpses of the marks he's beginning to leave but frankly, he doesn't care. He growls in the nape of his boyfriend's neck, hears the short gasps and it feels good, so good, to stretch Aramis like that.

 

“It's mine to fuck and to love and there's no reason in the world for you to even doubt I'd grow tired of it.”

 

Porthos' words wash over Aramis' back, down his neck to his heart and Porthos' arm comes around his waist to keep him from stumbling. To let him get used to Porthos' cock inside of him again. To remember the pleasure it can bring when it moves and all Aramis can do is nod.

 

He pushes on his hands, sits up on the bed, on Porthos. His back to Porthos' chest, their sweaty skins clashing. Porthos rocks back on his heels, moans at the tightness of Aramis' ass around his dick, at the friction it brings whenever Aramis pushes himself down on him. How the need to be together like this overpowers the need to talk. Not that there's much left to say. Porthos thinks he's proved his point. Aramis' tiny moans are a sure proof of that.

 

Porthos grops the muscles on Aramis' stomach, the ones exacerbated by the position, almost straining under the skin, begging to be touched. Aramis' skin covers in goosebumps as Porthos does touch him, closing on his cock once again. Pulling and stroking, making Aramis lose his rhythm. Porthos rolls his hips, gently and carefully and Aramis' head comes to rest on his shoulder.

 

Porthos is filling him so completely, so perfectly that it's reminding Aramis of how fantastic sex is with him. Not that he could ever forget. Between the thickness of Porthos' cock and the pads of his fingers stroking and brushing his cockhead, Aramis is slowly but steadily losing all control over his body.

 

He's moaning incoherent things in Spanish which urge Porthos to go faster and he feels it in his own body, the tremors coursing through Aramis' limbs just before he comes. The spasms in his body, his gasps for kisses and for air and how he begs Porthos not to stop, not to ever stop.

 

He's still riding his orgasm when Porthos pushes him back down on the bed so that he can thrust into him harder than he did before. Aramis' chest constricts around his moans and his cries. He feels the air until he reaches Porthos' hand, firm on his hip and holds on to it with all his might. Porthos grips the fingers, pounds so fast into Aramis and literally collapses on him when he comes. His thrusts turn shallower, his heart skips a few beats he believes and that's how it feels to be truly alive. And happy.

 

Aramis' entire body is shaking underneath Porthos, the air smell of them both together and in spite of everything, Porthos feels lighter all of a sudden.

 

He hardly says a word for a long moment and neither does Aramis. Both busy catching their breath, letting the sudden calm soothe both their bodies and their souls. Porthos does collect one of the sheets from the floor to cover both Aramis and himself. Before he settles by his boyfriend's side, lying down. Watching Aramis watch him. Blinking once in a while and then Aramis kisses him sweetly. So very sweetly that Porthos feels all his love being poured into it.

 

He strokes Aramis' hair. Feels suddenly very ridiculous for fighting like they did. Apparently, so does Aramis when he speaks up again. Quietly. Never breaking eye contact.

 

“Porthos ? I'm sorry. For shouting and for saying all those things and for...”

 

“No. I'm sorry,” Porthos cuts him off, sighing. “I shouldn't have acted like I did.”

 

Aramis shrugs, tries to understand Porthos' situation. He rolls on his back, fists the sheet in his hand. One arm behind his head.

 

“You had your reasons.”

 

“Not when I'm with you, no. You were right. I can't just ignore you and act like you're not important when you _are_ and you're with me. It's hard and it's complicated and nobody told us how to act but if what you say is true and I ignored you...”

 

“Well, you grunted and said yeah and nodded.”

 

Porthos swears, reaches over to hold on to Aramis' hand on top of the sheet. He scoots closer until their legs touch. There's the hint of a sad smile on Aramis' face and it's far more disheartening than when he was angry earlier. And it's because of Porthos and how he acted. Regardless of how they just re-connected. Sex can't erase everything.

 

“That was a complete dick move. Unacceptable. I'm sorry, 'mis. You didn't deserve it. You never do.”

 

Aramis stares at him for long, long seconds, sees how sorry Porthos actually is. How it might all have been a stupid accident. He clutches the warm fingers in his hand and pushes the hair away from his face, trying to word his feelings, what hurt him.

 

“I guess it...stunned me. That in spite of being with me, you'd focus everything on Anne. It doesn't....It never happened before and I don't...think.... I don't think I'd like it if it were to..happen more and more.”

 

He stammers the end of his explanation, deciding saying the truth and what's on his heart is important yet also not happily wanting to upset Porthos. These aren't pleasant conversations to have even though they're needed. Certainly not what pillow talk should be about.

 

“And you'd be correct,” Porthos assures him. Desperate in his own way to make things right, in spite of his feelings for Anne, in spite of feeling like he was attacked earlier. Aramis' well-being is paramount. So is the need for them all to understand how they all feel in this new relationship. It might have been three or four months already, it's nonetheless still very new to navigate.

 

“I won't lie. I kind of actually really enjoy what we have going on,” he admits. “To realize I don't have to only love one person at once. That I'm...allowed to care for different people at the same time. It's...liberating. But not if it's at the detriment of either one of you.”

 

Aramis smiles and this time there's absolutely no sadness in the gesture. Porthos cushions his cheek on his hands, wants to gaze at his boyfriend for long hours. The sheet rustles when he shifts underneath it. Aramis' voice is soothing. A nice rumble close to his ears.

 

“I'm happy you're happy. Really. And I've always known you didn't care for Anne the same way I do. It's fine. And it's more new for you than it is for me I suppose so...I mean we're not at the same stage in our relationship with her so....you're getting to know her and I'm okay with that. I mean, who suggested you go that concert next month after all?”

 

“Yeah, thanks, cupcake. I'm sure we could find you an extra ticket if you wanted to join us.”

 

Aramis should never feel uncomfortable. That's not the point. Even when he makes it a priority for the others to be happy. But he shakes his head at Porthos' offer.

 

“No, I'm good. That's _your_ date. And you enjoy going on dates with Anne. That's fine.” He's well aware Porthos truly does. And there's a part of Aramis who rejoices in watching Porthos having fun and enjoying himself. Even without him.

 

Aramis turns on his side again to face Porthos and he traces imaginary lines on his boyfriend's naked arm before he speaks again.

 

“The point is, when we're together, I kind of like being all you care about. Having your undivided attention. I need it.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I need time to be just us. I need to know that for a few hours, or a lot, you're just mine.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Even if the rest of the time you may not be.” Aramis thinks for a few seconds before he continues with his thought, a bit afraid it might fuel a fire which may not have been put out yet. Yet feeling like now is the time to tell Porthos those things which are on his heart and shouldn't be kept bottled up. “I didn't spend my time pinning over you while I was with Anne. It wouldn't have been fair.”

 

It's Porthos' turn to sigh and to truly feel like an ass today. There he is, being reunited with a boyfriend he hasn't seen in weeks and dismissing him with a flick of his finger? What the hell is wrong with him? Aramis doesn't ever deserve this. Porthos hates himself a little for making him miserable.

 

“I get it, 'mis. And I don't want it to happen again. I don't even know how it happened. I don't want to make you feel like crap. Hell we might not wear wedding rings because it scares the fuck out of me, all that it entitles but...”

 

“And what would be the point? There are other ways to commit. We did it without fuss. Although if you do want a ring, I'll be happy to oblige. What about a huge diamond right there?”

 

He grabs Porthos' left hand, plays with the fingers and holds one to his lips to kiss it. He's smirking at his boyfriend, Porthos making a weird face, only making Aramis chuckle more.

 

“Shut your mouth.” Porthos snatches his hand back. He rests it on top of the sheet, where he would normally touch Aramis' hip if it weren't for the linens. “It'd get damaged while working out. _I'll_ get you one. I don't see how a keyboard would be harmful to it.”

 

Aramis scowls, would argue that he doesn't spend his days behind a desk but they have more important issues to discuss. He's always so proud of Porthos, of everything he's done to accept Aramis and all the people who followed.

 

“Seriously, Porthos. You committed so much in the past year regardless. You should be so proud, sweetie. I am. You should give yourself a huge pat in the back.”

 

Then Aramis does literally just that and Porthos snorts. Feels comfortable again. Because it's Aramis and his family. Their family.

 

“That's what I meant. And committing to you like this, simply and naturally, it didn't scare me. It's real. So even if we don't have those proof or what they mean, what we have, I'm not losing it. I refuse to. Under no circumstances. For no one. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Aramis.”

 

Aramis cooes a bit, feeling all the peace and calm of their situation and of them resolving their problems. He shuffles on the bed, hooks one leg with Porthos' and buries his face in his neck, breathing in the warm and familiar scent. He mouths an I love you and Porthos takes a very deep breath. Holds him close and tight.

 

“And you incidentally drew me closer to Anne,” Porthos goes one after blissful minutes of silence. Aramis doesn't move. Only listens. “And it's fantastic and head-spinning and...”

 

“It is. It's been going so well so far, far better than I imagined. Most of the time.”

 

“I know.” There's frustration in Porthos' voice. In his eyes when Aramis looks up. “I don't want to push you away. I never wanted to.”

 

“You get it now. Why it upset me. Maybe you've missed her?” Aramis hazards.

 

Porthos hardly needs time to think about it. It's been painful but being away from them both has been.

 

“I guess. I've missed you, too, though. But yes. Fuck I did. I missed her. Sorry.”

 

Aramis shakes his head to dismiss the apology.

 

“I asked. Long distance relationships, uh? Must suck on the long term. I don't think I could do it. I know I couldn't.”

 

“I probably couldn't do it either. These past weeks weren't the most spectacular of my life. I also never want to get used to having you around. You're welcome to roast my ass if I ever, ever act like it's normal for you to be there with me. If it's something to be expected. But I _am_ used to what we have when we're together. The comfort and all the...the banter and the jokes and how each day is worth looking forward to. All the love that I didn't think I'd have. You brought that, Aramis. You made it possible for me to feel comfortable enough to go on those new adventures.”

 

“Love you, too, sweetie.”

 

“But from now on, let's just do that in the same city, in the same country.”

 

Aramis couldn't agree more.

 

“Long distance relationships seem hard enough on their own, yes. Definitely not for us. So throw poly in the mix and it'd probably never work for long.”

 

Porthos eyes him carefully this time. Before he asks the important question whose answer he knows when it comes to himself but for Aramis, it's suddenly more hazy and it's a bit terrifying. He wills his voice not to shake too much.

 

“Is it? Working for you? Truly?”

 

Aramis gazes at him thoughtfully. It's a question which has been weaving its way inside his mind for the past hours. One he didn't expect he'd have to confront again. His feelings are all jumbled up and he's feeling sleepy.

 

“I think...It took me this vacation and today to realize that, well, I might....be...insecure,” he can admit this much now. It would be lying to call it anything else. “But the thing is, I don't want to. I'm not when we're in Paris. At least not that I know of. I'm not when we're all together. It's actually great. The balance we're trying to achieve. As long as I'm sure of your feelings.”

 

“Have I ever given you a reason to doubt them?”

 

“Unvoluntarily, yes.”

 

The answer breaks Porthos' heart a great deal. It makes him ache and he tightens his hold on Aramis. To the point of smothering him against his chest. It's a safe and cozy spot and Aramis wouldn't mind staying there from now on. Whenever he needs comforting. He loves Porthos so very much.

 

“Oh, cupcake. I didn't mean to. I love you.”

 

“And excuse the bad phrasing but I've to ask,” Aramis takes a deep breath, his words against Porthos' skin because he might be brave, there are certain things which scare him off much more than others. “If you want to go on more dates with Anne, if that would make you happy, as long as I get you often and a lot, I'm fine with it. As long as you love me. And if you decide that you love her more...”

 

“Shut up,” Porthos cuts him off. Curtly and quickly. He almost hits Aramis in the face when he pushes himself away from their hug to look him in the eye. There's a flaming look on his face. “I'm not sorry. Shut up and don't you dare say that ever again. You're it. You know that. There's nothing in the world which could drive me away from you. Do you hear me? Nothing. No one. There is nothing which will encroach on what we have. Regardless of our feelings for Anne. You can trust that.”

 

If Aramis needs reassurance, Porthos will make it his life work to achieve this goal. Even if he has to repeat it every day of their life together.

 

“Fuck work. Seriously. This would never have happened if I'd taken some stupid time off myself.”

 

“Maybe not. It did, though and I'm glad we talked.” Aramis' heart is beating fast but steadily. Casting away the darkness. “And thank you.”

 

“I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“I believe you. It's just..the circumstances. We'll plan better next summer.”

 

“If there is anything left to plan then.”

 

Porthos sounds so bitter all of a sudden that the reassurance Aramis had just gotten almost vanishes at the words and he pushes himself up to sit up in the bed. The sheet falls to his lap and he eyes Porthos with concern. He fumbles with his response.

 

“Are you....talking about us or....”

 

“God, no. Sorry. No. Absolutely not.” Porthos sits up too, grabs Aramis' hand and gives it a strong squeeze. Along with a quick smile. “You and I, we'll make plans for a real summer holiday one day. I'm counting on that.”

 

Aramis can breathe better and it doesn't take him long to realize what Porthos might be talking about.

 

“Work then?”

 

“Yeah but there's no...I don't really want to talk about it. I think I'll go have a shower.”

 

Not if Aramis can help it. Even though they might have been through their relationship issues, it doesn't mean there aren't others to deal with. He gets a hold on Porthos' arm before he can even attempt to stand up from the bed. Not that Porthos resists much. Instead his shoulders sag and all of a sudden, the pillow by his leg looks very interesting.

 

“Hey, Porthos, I'm here. I mean, I saw the graphs and everything and numbers aren't my strong suit but I don't think a slight dicrease could...”

 

“Slight?” Porthos spats, clearly disgusted. Hating that these thoughts are back in his mind. It angers him. “There was nothing _slight_ about it. I just...don't get it. I don't understand how it could have come to that.”

 

“It's summer. People aren't around to come to the gym.”

 

“You said it yourself. You saw the graphs. February, March, that's not summer.”

 

“Well, the back-to-school season will improve things, I hope.”

 

“It has to.”

 

“I'm sorry.” Aramis reaches over for a hug and Porthos comes easily. This is out of his control, it's not something he can fix by himself and he hates how concerned it's making Porthos.

 

“That's not your fault.”

 

“It's important to you and if it bothers you, then I'm sorry it does. I'll help.”

 

“Thanks, cupcake.”

 

Porthos fails to see how exactly Aramis could help. How could anyone help with what is starting to seem like an unavoidable catastrophe. Sometimes, it makes him want to cry. And he certainly didn't come all the way to Barcelona to cry. This day is becoming such a rollercoaster of emotions.

 

“I'll order us some room service. Food and cuddles to make you forget about Paris,” Aramis decides all of a suddent, scrambling for the phone and the guest book by it. Turning pages to find the menu. Porthos has to chuckle. It does lift his spirits.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Just you and me for now.”

 

“Can't say there's anything wrong with that.”

 

And they do exactly that. Drink champagne and eat pastries before and while they take a long, hot, bubbly bath in the very posh, very sparkly bathroom. Cuddle on the bed and on the couch and on the balcony. Spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on friends and family. On Mati and Aramis' parents and the dogs and Athos and Ninon and Charon and Flea.

 

And they don't leave the hotel room for hours. They're still tangled in each other, making up, making out, loving each other when Anne eventually meets them there.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The door opens on a very wide, very close vision of Porthos pulling on his tee-shirt to straighten it because he's just put it on. His hair is damp and his smile is scintillating. He doesn't even bother saying a word as he lowers his head and Anne meets him halfway, standing on her tip toes. She's smiling, too, relieved to finally be here. Tired from the misfortunes and adventures of the past days. Happy doesn't quite define how she feels in these few seconds now that they're together again.

 

Only that Porthos' hug is warm and strong and she's simply thankful to be here with him. Even with the door still open and her barely inside the hotel room. It's nice to find some comfort after the hassle she's been through. She wraps her arms around his neck and somehow, Porthos' arm around her waist pulls her off the ground.

 

Anne giggles in his neck, kisses him again quickly and stumbles just a tiny bit when she's back on safe, solid ground.

 

"I've missed you," she says, even though it's obvious and Porthos hardly has to reply because his entire behavior speaks for itself.

 

"Here I am," he does say cheekily and he shuts the door behind her. He's overwhelmed that after what happened earlier with Aramis, the desire to not make the same mistake again, to not act as if Anne was more important or valuable than his boyfriend, everything feels in place again now that she's here.

 

That it doesn't feel awkward after their fight. That having her here and Aramis as well, albeit still in the bathroom finishing with his shower, it makes Porthos' life feel complete and how stupid was he to act like a jackass when it can be as simple as being happy with the both of them.

 

Anne looks good, content, a bit out of breath but it's scorching hot outside and she must have been in the heat for quite some time. This may not be home but Porthos does feel like he has all he needs to be satisfied. Her smiles and how she sighs after she's drunk some water, taking in the room and asking how his flight was.

 

"Flight was all right. The heat's a bit much. It's been raining in Paris."

 

He ruffles his hair, the collar of his tee-shirt wet from the water drops. He sits on the unmade bed, compelling Anne to follow suit. With his arm tight around her waist because he has missed her and she's here, as close as he can have her. Even though she feels sweaty and sticky. But the air conditioning is doing great things to cool her down.

 

She smoothes the silk sheet, eyes the bed in such a state of disarray she's not naive enough to believe the men have just taken a nap.

 

"There you are!" Aramis exclaiming, stepping out of the bathroom, throwing the towel he was using to dry his hair on the closest armchair. His fingers are hot on the nape of her neck when he bends down to kiss her hello. "So, did your car survive?"

 

"It did. It was just the battery, that's what my father and my brother and the mechanic said. But it was too late yesterday to go buy another one. I'm sorry I missed you at the airport this morning, though."

 

"That's all right," Porthos dismisses her, a little apprehensive remembering what her absence led to: Aramis' outburst and the subsequent fighting. But it's somehow resolved now and Aramis settles by his side, half naked and his hand on Porthos' knee. "You're here now and it's all that matters."

 

"Absolutely and I mean, it's not like you didn't take advantage of your time alone."

 

She surveys the bed they're sitting on one more time. The expanse of it, the pillows on the floor, the headboard and the multiple ties discarded on it as if someone dumped the contents of their bag on the mattress. Aramis watches how her eyes twinkle at them both as she grins and he holds on to the hand Porthos has put in his. He squeezes and smirks back because yes, they did have a wonderful afternoon after they talked about their issues. Aramis gives Porthos a peck on the lips, lingers for a short time.

 

"Do I want to know?" Anne asks, sitting more comfortably, folding one leg under her and straining to grab and play with the purple tie, the one lying abandoned on the white bed sheet.

 

Aramis shrugs, feeling so well now, after his bath and his shower and having sex not once but twice in the day. And in those few minutes with Anne with them again, life seems good. _Is_ good. Everyone looks cheerful and he is happy.

 

"Sometimes you've got to improvise."

 

He absent-mindedly touches his wrist and ties are so much better than handcuffs because they don't leave marks for as long. Or they didn't tie them tight enough. Aramis can still sense the ghost of them on his skin though and it's a powerful, invigorating sensation coursing through his body. He kisses Porthos again. Deeper and longer and his boyfriend's palm on the small of his naked back acts as yet another reminder of what they are. How connected and how much Porthos loves and values him. Aramis would hate himself for ever doubting it.

 

There's a glow around them, so engrossed in each other, that despite the kinky aspect of what they are talking about, or maybe thanks to it, Anne can't help but love them for it. Because together they are simply meant to be, so in sync that it's beautiful to watch and to be able to witness. It's pure and borderline perfection in their passion and dedication.

 

She does let go of the tie, though.

 

"Anne said that maybe, you know, she'd like us to show her. You tying me up," Aramis mentions casually and Porthos' eyes widen, definitely interested in this new piece of information.

 

"You keep on surprising us."

 

"I'm feeling more comfortable," she admits, catching his eye. "And it's you and well, it's always amazing so why not?"

 

"That'll be fun," Porthos decides, not believing his luck, flopping back on the bed. His hand stays hooked in Aramis' belt and Anne's soft if not uncomfortable laughter is music to his ears. He shakes his head, grinning.

 

Anne and Aramis are towering above him, watching him be happy. Be with them and for better or for worse, he does complete them. That missing link which made them realize they could be happier individually but also together. That they could be more than friends. Anne is experiencing all sorts of fuzzy feelings, being reunited with Porthos at last. Because she's well aware he's been missed by the both of them.

 

They share a smile, Aramis and Anne and she ends up lying on the bed as well. Groaning because she's driven for so long today her muscles and even her bones ache. The mattress sinks behind them where Aramis settles, dressed now and the last of the champagne in his glass because who cares if it's late afternoon, if his head is already gently buzzing since they did drink an entire bottle before Anne arrived. He plays with her hair, soft and blond and the pads of his fingers brush her temples, her forehead. It's good. Relaxing.

 

Porthos rolls on his side then, presses his hand to her stomach and kisses her again. With an open mouth and an eager tongue and Anne sighs against his lips. She feels loved and wanted by them both. They might have a restaurant reservation for the evening but she wouldn't mind cancelling it to stay in the hotel room.

 

Aramis' fingers on her head still for a second when Porthos hoists himself up to give _him_ a kiss. Careful, so so eager to do what he does best and pay them both the attention they deserve. Aramis would tell him there's no need, that they're good, that there's no reason to make amends anymore. That it was a honest mistake and clearly it was ridiculous of him to ever imagine Porthos would stop having strong feelings for him.

 

Yet Aramis isn't complaining about the amount of loving and sexiness he's been getting so far this afternoon. So he shuts his mouth to everything which isn't his boyfriend's tongue.

 

"You do love putting on a show after all, cupcake," Porthos rasps in a hoarse voice and Aramis chuckles against his lips.

 

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Porthos'. He curls a lock of Anne's hair around his finger, her head almost on his lap and it would lull her to sleep. Which is unaceptable.

 

"I do," Aramis agrees. It turns him on to be watched especially if it's Anne. He wouldn't have believed it. But after all, he likes putting on a show for Porthos alone so it only adds to the thrill to have a larger audience. "And it's even better when the person watching eventually joins in."

 

Anne has to crane her head at a weird angle to look at them and very reluctantly she rolls over so she's lying on her stomach and it doesn't hurt as much. To be honest, she has been thinking about it ever since Aramis first mentioned it. It's making her toes tingle and she's astounded she can consider it without blushing profusely.

 

".....maybe. One day. Not today."

 

It's a rushed answer and they would never want her to feel obligated to anything. For whatever reason. She knows that.

 

"Of course not," Porthos reassures her. "Whenever you want. Aramis won't say no when you decide to."

 

"You won't either," Aramis scoffs, pushing against his boyfriend's shoulder.

 

They're sitting precisely where they were only an hour ago and there's something so extremely hot about Aramis squirming and begging yet being completely out of control which gets to Porthos in ways he could hardly describe. To receive such deep trust.

 

He steals the very last drops of champagne from Aramis' glass. Who didn't put up much of a fight. Instead he stretches his arms far above his head. Bones crack and he's satisfied and starving. And they did book a table at that restaurant which overlooks the harbor.

 

So one shower later for Anne, many kisses and hand touching for everyone later, with much teasing and laughter which make for a relaxed atmosphere, they're all headed outside. Where it's still warm yet there's a nice breeze and Porthos holds Anne's hand in the street while Aramis can't stay focused, scanning all the windows of all the shops they pass by and making a mental list of everything he'd probably look gorgeous in.

 

He's promised they'll go shopping in the morning, which highly satisfies him but doesn't stop him. Bouncing energy, dazzling smiles, Porthos can finally put his apprehension aside and look perhaps too fondly at his boyfriend but who cares. He enjoys his girlfriend, too. Just like that, for tonight, everything which isn't going perfectly well in his life ceases to matter. Paris and work. Even Aramis' unexpected insecurities seem to have vanished.

 

When he eventually grows tired of window shopping, especially as the street lightning isn't very helpful and it's getting dark out, Aramis hooks his arm with Anne's, almost asks how Mati's doing. But he doesn't need to. So instead, he dares ask about her brother. Since her being stuck in Madrid means she saw him.

 

"It was....better to talk to him in person than on the phone. And without our parents. They put all these nasty ideas in his head since I suppose their description of out relationship must have reflected their prejudice."

 

"So he's okay now? No more shouting?"

 

"He shouted at you?" Porthos doesn't know the brother but who does that to their little sister?

 

"Yes at first but...yesterday was better and it's not like he could make me change my mind. I like us," she stresses, looking from one to the other in turn. "He thought I was too....I don't know.... oblivious to see that you were using me?"

 

"What a...." Aramis starts before he catches himself, catches Porthos' glare above her head. He's not insulting her family with her standing right next to him. "We're not."

 

"Of course you aren't. I know that. I told him that. And besides, how can he judge, he hasn't even met Porthos."

 

Not that Porthos is particularly looking forward to meeting the rest of her family. Her parents alone weren't exactly a field trip.

 

"Anyway. We talked and I explained and he didn't shout. He still doesn't approve but I'm growing used to this. It's not like I have to see them all the days of my life."

 

It hurts a bit, to fight with her family or to not look forward to the next time they'll see each other. But Anne has been dealing with it for years and it's actually healthier for her to be in another country. To not constantly be subjected to their staring and judging. She can finally feel like herself. Be free.

 

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, Porthos lets go of her hand to give her a hug. It sucks, that her family's like this, he's as upset as Aramis is but at least she's standing up for herself and he couldn't be prouder. And impressed.

 

Anne is taken aback at first, crushed in his arms, trapped between him and Aramis and the tight, tight hold they have on her. And yet she can breathe better there. They're as supportive as they can and she loves them for it.

 

She tells them so but her cheek is cushioned on Porthos' chest and it's hard to move so she isn't sure they're heard her.

 

"Love you, too," Aramis replies nonetheless before he drops a kiss on top of her head. "You're the best. The bravest. Now let's go eat some seafood. Not you, Porthos," he adds as he holds the door open for Anne and his boyfriend. "We don't want to end up at the hospital."

 

"And I'd rather not die tonight, thank you very much," Porthos scowls.

 

He squeezes Aramis' waist on his way inside, relishing in the gleeful smile and the silliness in his boyfriend's eyes. How delighted Aramis is and has been for hours, to have Porthos back. To touch him.

 

Be it their feet under the table or their hands brushing on it while Porthos tells Anne that he saw Ninon very briefly the week before and she inquired about her. Which comes as no surprise to her because Ninon actually texted her. Anne feels even better going back to Paris this time around. Last year was more for Mati than for herself but now, she has her boyfriends on top of her family _and_ she's made friends. Friends she is excited to see again. Even Flea. Even though she isn't certain they could qualify as friends. Yet.

 

"She'll be teaching in Paris next semester so she said...," Porthos explains.

 

"That we'd have to see each other more, I know. We're already planning lunch dates. It's not like we work miles away from one another."

 

More like a couple of streets away. Which is nice.

 

"And since the museum will still be undergoing renovation I'm counting on getting away from the incessant noise as much as possible."

 

It's been a pain before going on holiday, so Anne isn't quite thrilled to go back to work. It gives her headaches at the end of the day.

 

"I'm still waiting for that private tour of it by the way," Aramis reminds her.

 

It's been a year and apart from that rainy night in April, he hasn't really explored the museum with their special guide. After hours, just them, that would appeal even to Porthos.

 

" _I'm_ still waiting for these private lessons at the gym," Anne says back without missing a bit and Porthos stops moving in the middle of cutting his piece of meat, his cutlery heavy in hands.

 

"We'll....definitely....do the gym before the museum," he suggests. It's not like he'd dare have sex in the museum. Gross. Awkward. Illegal? So it can wait. "First date when we're all back."

 

Anne looks surprised her jest has been taken so literally but she doesn't protest. She does blush at his eagerness and at Aramis' pointed smirk. Although it's probably also due to anticipation.

 

She certainly did miss him, Porthos reflects, if she's so forward in voicing what she wants without a hint of hesitation. She's been since the hotel room and all their discussions and it means they're moving forward. Porthos loves it. How comfortable it is.

 

Even when they're stuffed from dessert but still decide to go for a walk on the beach. When it's pitch dark, almost midnight and the beach is close to deserted.

 

Anne has fastened her heels to her purse to walk barefoot in the sand alongside Porthos and Aramis. They're barely holding hands, those two. Only loosely holding a couple of fingers as their arms swing ever so lightly. But they're not letting go. Aramis has been waiting forever -two weeks- to be close to Porthos so he's going to enjoy every second of it.

 

The only valid reason for him to let go of his boyfriend's hand is when Porthos goes to investigate the water's temperature and deems it quite enouh to go for a swim. Aramis watches him get undressed and dive right in in nothing but his underwear.

 

"Did we bring a towel?" Anne wonders and Aramis can't help but chuckle at her practical side. He shakes his head.

 

"He'll just drip the whole way back to the hotel."

 

"I suppose it's worth it. If the weather is terrible in France. You can go, too. I'll look after your stuff."

 

"I feel like I've spent hours in the bathtub earlier. I've had enough of water for now."

 

Which is surprising but to prove his point, he sits down in the sand by the pile of Porthos' clothes. Anne does the same, hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. She stares in the distance, the halo of the street lamp behind them on the promenade casting just enough light to see Porthos' silhouette.

 

_"I'm glad he's finally here. I've missed him. Not that....not that it wasn't great to be with you or anything but....,"_ Anne stammers, trying to right the wrong meaning her words could take.

 

_"I get it. Don't worry. I'm glad he's with us, too. I've missed him, too. But....hmm....there's something I've to tell you. Because I kind of lost it before and even though it's not your_ _fault, I think you deserve to_ _know."_

 

It's been eating at him, that whatever problem he might have had with Porthos, it impacted her as well. No need to beat around the bush for days.

 

_"Did you and Porthos have a fight?"_ There was nothing tense in the atmosphere when she joined them and there has been no hint of discomfort ever since. She would never have guessed.

 

_"Yes. For ridiculous reasons. And we've talked it over. We're all right now, don't worry. But it made me realize that...maybe I'm not....completely....used or...at ease with our whole situation."_

 

_"With Porthos and I, you mean?"_

 

Aramis doesn't really know how to answer. Because he's sure he's fine with what they have in itself. Seeing them happy doesn't bother him in the least. He's simply not when it's at his expense. It sounds so incredibly selfish, though that he'd feel stupid saying it out loud.

 

_"Aramis, you know I would never put myself between you and Porthos,"_ Anne continues when he's been hesitating for too long. _"I mean, I would never do anything to drive you apart. You're perfect together."_

 

_"Hardly."_

 

_"Well, you're meant to be, at any rate. That's how I see it. Seeing you together, it makes_ me _happy. Truly. I would never ruin it for you. I've told you before."_

 

_"Yes, I remember. But sometimes, I kind of need Porthos to myself and it's not fair to you."_

 

_"Aramis, listen to me. I've made it clear from the start. I'm beyond grateful we're dating. All of us. I've been happier these past few months than I've ever been. To be given the chance to_ _feel what I feel without being guilty or having to lie. And I'd never ask for more. You and_ _Porthos, you're precious and I'd never dream of destroying what you've built together. I'm already getting more than I ever expected. We_ are _dating after all,"_ she gestures between the two of them.

 

_"We are. I guess that..it's just because Porthos doesn't feel the same way I do when it comes to you I..."_

 

_"Which is normal, considering that you are two different persons,"_ Anne points out and Aramis cocks his head, nods.

 

_"Sometimes I wonder if it'll work out for us on the long term. You and me."_

 

There. He exhales loudly and Anne's hand on the nape of his neck is cool against his skin.

 

_"I can't predict the future,"_ she says softly _. "Neither can you."_

 

_"I'm aware."_

 

_"Are you dating me so you won't lose Porthos?"_ His unexpected confession has triggered her as sudden and frightened question. Aramis scoffs. Loudly.

 

_"No. Although we might never have given it another shot without him but no. I wanted to. I want to. Sex is great,"_ he says cheekily and she tugs on his hair as a reprimand.

 

_"This is serious, Aramis. I don't want you to feel miserable just so you can keep people you care about close."_

 

_"I'm not. Miserable. I swear. I like being with you. Spending time with you. I liked seeing you more often when you chose to come to Paris. You're a spectacular person. And it's been great. Dating you."_

 

_"So why are you afraid it might not work?"_

 

_"Because you're more attracted to Porthos than to me?"_ It should hurt but sometimes he can see it so plainly it'd be lying to deny it.

 

_"That's.....How can you....What made you...That's bullshit."_

 

The swearing is so unlike her, so unexpected and the way she snapped at him so curt that Aramis feels like he's being chastised and his eyes widen as he recoils a tiny bit.

 

_"....Wh....What?"_

 

Anne is shaking her head, visibly outraged that he could come to such a conclusion.

 

_"You heard me. Granted, have you_ seen _Porthos? He's hot. And kind and sweet but you know that. You've fallen for him, too. But I love you, too. You're funny and so, so selfless. Hot, too,"_ she smiles and Aramis grins back. _"I may have fallen for Porthos hard and fast while with you it's_ _everything we've been through together which made me like you. And that's a fact. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Aramis. I really don't. Because I love you and you're the very first_ _good thing which ever happened to me. Before Mati was even born."_

 

_"Okay. Maybe_ attracted _wasn't the correct word to use,"_ he chuckles at her dedication and her spirit.

 

_"Then what is it?"_

 

_"Like you said, what we have, we've built over the years but it's not solely ours. It's always more or less about Mati and....I guess we never....really go on dates just us."_

 

_"Do you want to?"_

 

_"You're my girlfriend."_ Aramis almost rolls his eyes but her question sounded genuine. _"Yes, I think I'd like that. I liked going canoeing and everything."_

 

_"I'm vetoing this forever but sure then, we'll go on dates of our own."_

 

_"If you want to."_

 

_"I want_ you _. And it's a lot of work, having two boyfriends and a child and a career but I'm all for effort if it means being happy together."_

 

And like this, Aramis can't help smiling at her answer. At her assurance and he's no longer embarassed by his apprehension. There was nothing to really worry about in the first place. He feels lighter, better.

 

He reaches out to hug her, gives her a kiss on the lips and then decides he'll go for a swim after all. But only if Anne comes along as well. The fact that she'd be in her underwear is irrelevant. So are the men and there's nobody else around.

 


End file.
